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TALES  OF  A  TERRIER 


BY 

ANNE   STORY   ALLEN 

Illustrations  by  Adelaide  Magner. 


THE 


SLbbcy  Press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 
FIFTH  AVENUE 

Condon  NEW  YORK  Montreal 


Copyright,  1903 

by 
THE 

Hbbcy  press 


/02.-? 


To  L.  M. 


Thanks  are  due 
Frank  A.  Munsey 

for  the 
book  rights  of  five  of  these  stories. 

A.S.A, 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


Page 

1.  Enter    Sir    Peter 7 

2.  The  Best  Laid  Schemes   . 21 

3.  The  Amende  Honorable    ......      .      .      35 

4.  Down  the  Road  with  Toto      ......      o;    49 

5.  A  Close  Finish .      63 

6.  A   Morning's   Experience 75 

7.  Noblesse  Oblige 93 

8.  One  Touch  of  Nature      ........    105 

9.  A  Yellow  Dog 119 

10.  Stranger   than  Fiction                                                  .    133 


FW7569 


ENTER 

SIR 
PETER 


ENTER  SIR  PETER 


HE  story  of  the  incarceration  of  Sir  Pe- 
ter is  a  most  pathetic  one.  Anyone  who 
has  endured  the  confinement  of  a  winter 
in  town  and  has  been  looking  forward  to 
the  day  when  he  should  feel  the  free 
country  air  about  him — should  roam  at 
will  over  meadow  and  field — should 
have  fine  games  of  pull  the  rope,  and 
great  bone  hunts  with  friends — anyone, 
I  say,  who  has  had  these  prospects  and 

almost  promises  before  him,  is  certainly  to  be  pitied  if  on  the 
day  of  his  anticipated  freedom  he  finds  himself  imprisoned, 
except  for  temporary  and  fleeting  periods,  for  the  whole  of  the 
beautiful  summer. 

Sir  Peter,  who  made  this  remark  to  himself,  paused  to  take 
breath.  He  reviewed  his  mistakes  and  his  sins,  which  were  only 
mistakes  of  a  little  greater  importance,  and  argued  to  himself 
impartially  that  the  punishment  did  not  "  fit  the  crime." 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

To  begin  with,  Sir  Peter's  appearance  was  against  him.  He 
was  really  most  good-natured,  but  was  blessed  (or  otherwise) 
with  a  face  which  suggested  a  good  disposition  to  no  one  except 
the  most  charitably  inclined,  and  left  an  impression  among  the 
timid  and  fearful  that  they  had  narrowly  escaped,  by  the  inter- 
position of  Providence,  from  a  cruel  and  bloodthirsty  beast. 

So  you  see,  Sir  Peter  was  handicapped,  and  it  is  a  hard  thing 
to  go  through  life  handicapped  by  one's  personal  appearance. 
Fortunately,  Sir  Peter  did  not  realize  this,  so  his  feelings  were 


His  brindle  body  and  beautiful  white  shirt  front  were  very 
good  to  look  at,  and  he  had  no  idea  but  that  his  big  head  with 
great  brown  eyes,  very  large  mouth  and  small  cocked  ears  were 
equally  pleasing. 

That  mouth  in  repose  was  threatening  enough.  It  hung 
down  like  an  inverted  u  and  showed  at  the  middle  of  the  lower 
lip  two  little  white  teeth,  just  harmless  samples  of  the  big,  strong 
ones  he  wore  covered  up. 

'But  when  it  was  warm  and  Sir  Peter  had  to  carry  his  mouth 
open  a  little  in  order  to  be  comfortable,  or  when  he  yawned, 

8 


Enter  Sir  Peter. 

thinking  no  one  was  looking—he  was  really  very  well-bred — 
why,  then  it  was  something  terrible,  and  in  the  park  the  nurse- 
maids hurried  their  charges  away  and  small  boys  forebore  to 
throw  stones. 

But  among  those  who  really  knew  him,  Sir  Peter  was  held  in 
high  esteem,  and  it  was  a  great  blow  to  all  his  friends,  when 
after  a  tumultuous  and  exciting  entrance,  the  curtain  was 
rung  down  and  the  rest  of  the  performance  cut  once  and  for  all. 

These  words  are  those  of  Sir  Peter's  master,  who  uses  theat- 
rical terms  now  and  then,  and  they  seem  to  describe  very  well 
the  unhappy  ending  of  a  drama  without  plot  and  badly  put 
together.  To  be  sure,  Sir  Peter  might  look  the  heavy  villain, 
but  he  should  never  have  undertaken  the  part,  for  he  had  not 
rehearsed  and  was  sure  to  make  a  failure  of  it. 

When  I  tell  you  that  he  introduced  an  attack,  an  escape,  a 
fight  and  a  scaring  of  seventeen  people  nearly  into  fits,  you  will 
perhaps  understand  why  Sir  Peter's  debut  was  not  a  success. 
The  public  does  not  want  such  heavy  work  in  summer.  There 
is  no  demand  for  it. 

The  prelude,  or  curtain  raiser,  was  not  exciting,  but  rather 
9 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

of  a  depressing  nature.  Sir  Peter  especially  disliked  trans- 
portation of  any  description.  He  had  stood  the  tedium  of  a 
voyage  across  the  Atlantic  with  a  stoicism  worthy  of  an  Indian, 
but  any  short  trip,  where  one  was  hustled  from  carriage  to 
ferry,  from  ferry  to  train,  and  from  train  to  cab  or  stage,  and 
where  each  change  seemed  to  be  worse  than  the  last,  always  wore 
on  his  nerves  and  he  was  pretty  sure  to  do  something  he  was 
afterward  sorry  for. 

When  he  drove  away  from  the  house,  one  hot  day  in  June,  on 
the  seat  with  his  master  and  with  his  back  to  the  horses,  his 
nerves  began  to  get  on  edge,  and  from  then  to  his  disgraceful 
entrance  at  the  farmhouse  porch  and  his  subsequent  removal 
to  and  detention  at  the  Maison  de  Hen,  Sir  Peter  grew  more 
cross  and  tired  and  nasty-tempered. 

The  carriage  was  very  full.  His  mistress  and  a  friend  were 
on  one  seat,  his  master  and  himself  on  the  other,  and  every 
inch  of  space  was  filled  up  by  golf  bags  and  travelling  bags  and 
hat  boxes  and  packages  that  had  come  too  late  to  be  put  into  the 
trunks. 

One  of  the  golf  bags  had  been  set  down  heavily  on  Sir  Peter's 


Enter  Sir  Peter. 

toes  after  he  had  gotten  into  the  carriage,  and  though  he  tried 
not  to  let  that  trifle  annoy  him,  still  he  felt  it  was  only  a  fore- 
runner of  the  trials  of  the  journey,  and  it  made  him  blue. 

He  was  on  the  point  of  being  rude  to  the  horses,  but  when  he 
reflected  that  they,  poor  things,  would  have  to  stay  in  town  all 
summer,  he  thought  better  of  it,  and  as  he  jumped  out  of  the 
carriage  at  the  ferry,  he  said,  "  Good-bye,  old  fellows ;  wish  you 
were  going  along,  too."  Afterward  he  was  glad  he  had  said  that. 
It  was  a  pleasant  word  in  a  cross,  cross  day.  The  trip  across  the 
ferry  wasn't  especially  bad.  Someway  everyone  gave  the  party 
a  wide  berth  and  there  was  plenty  of  room. 

On  the  train,  he  went  into  the  smoking  car  with  his  master  and 
just  as  they  started  the  conductor  said :  "  You'll  have  to  put 
that  dog  in  the  baggage  car." 

Sir  Peter's  master  suggested  that  the  seat  beside  himself  was 
a  pretty  good  place  and  really  better  than  the  baggage  car.  Sir 
Peter  raised  his  face  and  looked  squarely  at  the  conductor  and 
the  latter  hastily  concluded  that  everything  was  all  right  and 
that  he  had  duties  elsewhere. 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

But  it  was  a  long  and  tiresome  ride.  Cinders  came  in  at  the 
•window  and  one  got  in  Sir  Peter's  eye. 

It  was  noisy  and  he  couldn't  sleep  and  the  train  rocked  a 
good  deal  and  made  him  rather  ill.  So  that,  by  the  time  they 
arrived  at  the  station  where  they  were  to  take  the  stage,  he  was 
really  in  a  bad  temper.  From  that  time  on,  matters  grew 
steadily  worse. 

As  they  stood  on  the  platform,  one  of  the  stage  horses  said 
to  the  other :  "  Look  a,t  the  dude  dog.  We've  got  to  drag  him 
along,  too.  As  if  there  wasn't  enough  of  a  load  without 
him." 

Sir  Peter  heard  him  and  remarked  aloud,  though  to  no  one 
in  particular :  "  If  it  wasn't  for  annoying  my  master,  I  would 
very  soon  teach  some  country  bumpkins  to  mend  their  manners." 

•'  Stop  growling,"  said  Sir  Peter's  master,  and  they  all  got 
in  the  stage. 

The  people  who  had  come  to  meet  them  told  what  a  lovely 
place  it  was — so  quiet  and  peaceful;  related  the  improvement 
in  their  appetites,  and  the  exact  number  of  pounds  each  had 
gained.  And  the  newcomers  said  it  was  sure  to  be  just  the  place 


Enter  Sir  Peter. 

they  had  been  longing  for,  and  how  well  they  all  looked  and 
was  the  bathing  good  ?  Did  they  sail  much,  and  were  the  golf 
links  near  ? " 

And  then  someone  asked,  "Why  don't  you  let  Sir  Peter  run  a 
bit  ?  'Twill  do  him  good.  He'll  follow,  won't  he  ?  "  So  the 
little  door  at  the  back  of  the  stage  was  opened  and  Sir  Peter 
sprang  down.  His  wrath  had  been  smouldering  and  now  it 
burst  forth. 

"  I'll  teach  you  to  call  me  a  dude,"  he  roared,  and  jumped 
at  the  off  horse. 

"  I'll  teach  you  to  call  me  a  bumpkin,"  retorted  the  off  horse, 
and  bunched  up  his  feet  and  let  them  all  out  in  different  direc- 
tions. Then  Sir  Peter  was  in  the  sandy  road  and  both  the 
-side  wheels  had  gone  over  him.  The  driver  was  pulling  in  his 
horses  and  brandishing  his  whip.  The  women  screamed  and 
covered  up  their  eyes  and  imagined  a  dead  bull  dog  by  the 
roadside. 

Finally  the  stage  stopped,  and  Sir  Peter's  master,  who  had 
kept  quite  cool  throughout  the  tumult,  opened  the  little  back 
door  again  and  whistled.  A  very  dusty,  forlorn-looking  Sir 

13 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

Peter  picked  himself  out  of  the  dust,  gave  a  disgusted  look  at 
the  horses,  stage  and  passengers,  and  a  wickedly  disobedient  one 
at  his  master,  turned  deliberately  around  and  trotted  away 
toward  the  station. 

"  New  York's  good  enough  for  me,"  he  muttered.  A  laugh 
went  up  from  the  stage,  and  when  it  subsided  Sir  Peter  heard, 
just  as  he  was  rounding  a  curve  in  the  woods,  a  shrill  impera- 
tive whistle  that  he  dared  not  disobey.  So  with  head  and  tail 
hanging  down  he  approached  the  stage. 

The  women  said,  "  It's  a  wonder  he  wasn't  killed,"  and  the 
men  said,  "  Bull  dogs  are  hard  to  kill."  Sir  Peter's  master  said 
nothing  except,  "  Lie  down,  sir,"  but  Sir  Peter  quaked  at  his 
tone. 

So  that  excitement  was  over  and  the  uninteresting  conversa- 
tion went  on  about  boating,  bathing,  sailing  and  golfing  and  Sir 
Peter's  black  mood  grew  blacker,  and  even  his  master  who  knew 
he  was  out  of  sorts,  never  imagined  the  depth  of  rage  and  de- 
spair in  the  heart  of  his  usually  good-tempered  companion. 

Finally,  after  a  lovely  little  bit  of  woodland  through  which 
they  drove  on  a  carpet  of  pine  needles,  they  came  to  a  gate  in  a 


Enter  Sir  Peter. 

white  fence  and  turned  in  abruptly.  The  old  White  Farmhouse 
stood  on  a  lawn  which  sloped  down  to  the  edge  of  a  little  bay. 

A  dock  ran  out  into  the  water  and  there  were  sail  boats  and 
row  boats  tied  to  it.  And  on  the  lawn  were  big,  lovely  trees 
growing  almost  down  to  the  water's  edge.  It  was  a  peaceful 
scene.  The  people  on  the  porch  all  looked  to  see  who  had  ar- 
rived and  everybody  clambered  out  of  the  stage. 

After  the  rest  came  Sir  Peter,  and  as  his  last  foot  touched  the 
ground  he  heard  a  cross  voice  say,  "  There  comes  another  town- 
bred  puppy." 

He  looked  around  quickly  and  spied  an  elderly  Newfoundland 
lying  at  the  feet  of  a  stout  man  whose  chair  was  tipped  against 
the  side  of  the  house  at  a  most  comfortable  angle. 

Sir  Peter  waited  for  nothing.  He  cared  neither  for  the  grey 
hairs  of  the  Newfoundland,  which  he  certainly  should  have  re- 
spected, nor  for  the  fact  that  he  would  probably  upset  the  stout 
man  in  the  tipped-up  chair.  His  eyes  turned  red  and  he  made  a 
leap.  Then  there  were  dogs,  a  stout  man  and  a  chair  moving 
about  the  porch  in  a  way  calculated  to  upset  the  steadiest  nerves. 

15 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

•x 

When  order  was  restored  it  was  found  that  Sinbad  had  really 
gotten  the  best  of  it,  for  the  stout  man  had  torn  his  coat,  the 
chair  had  a  broken  leg,  and  Sir  Peter,  to  his  own  astonishment, 
had  a  big  bump  on  his  forehead  and  something  had  happened 
to  one  of  his  eyes.  He  had  used  more  force  than  judgment  in 
his  attack  and  the  Newfoundland's  thick  curly  hair  had  pro- 
tected him.  So  Sinbad  walked  haughtily  away  with  legs  intact, 
coat  untorn  and  eyes  as  good  as  ever. 

But  peace  no  longer  reigned  about  the  White  Farmhouse.  The 
stout  man  threatened  to  leave.  He  said  he  was  just  getting  over 
nervous  prostration,  and  another  scare  like  that  would  make 
him  ill  for  a  year.  The  farmhouse  lady,  a  kind  soul,  was  much 
disturbed  by  the  occurrence.  She  really  preferred  the  stout 
man  to  Sir  Peter — as  a  boarder.  "  You  said  there  was  a 
dog,  but  that  he  was  mild"  she  objected. 

So  there  was  a  long  consultation  and  finally  a  bank  note 
changed  hands.  Then  there  was  a  procession  of  three,  the  farm- 
house lady,  Sir  Peter's  master  and  Sir  Peter  himself,  which 
wended  its  way  toward  a  small  building. 

Near  the  house  it  was  and  commanding  a  good  view  of  the 
16 


Enter  ^.ir  Peter. 

porch  and  the  bay.  This  building  was  surrounded  by  a  fair- 
sized  yard  and  a  fence.  Its  occupants  had  left  some  months 
before.  The  gate  was  opened  and  Sir  Peter  solemnly  ushered 
in.  His  penance  had  begun. 

He  walked  across  the  yard  and  sat  down  in  a  corner.  And 
there  he  stayed,  a  forlorn  object,  like  Mariana  and  the  Moated 
Grange,  or  Sister  Anne  on  her  watch  tower,  or  any  other  gloomy 
and  unhappy  being  you  may  happen  to  think  of. 

The  sun  slowly  sank  and  the  sky  was  filled  with  purple  and 
gold  and  rainbow  hues.  A  lot  of  people  went  down  on  the 
dock  and  watched  the  beautiful  dying  day.  One  of  them  sang 
"  Good-bye,  Sweet  Day,"  which  Celia  Thaxter  must  have  meant 
to  be  sung  to  just  such  a  sunset,  and  over  across  the  bay,  a 
boat  starting  out  caught  golden  tints  on  its  white  sails. 

But  alone,  sad  and  miserably  repentant,  sat  Sir  Peter  in  the 
front  yard  of  the  Maison  de  Hen. 


THE 

BEST 

LAID 

SCHEMES 


THE  BEST  LAID  SCHEMES 

IR  PETER  sat  by  the  door  of  the  Maison  de  Hen,  in  a  most 
dejected  attitude.  His  white  shirt  front  had  a  streak 
of  dirt  across  it  and  his  head  hung  forward  on  his 
chest.  His  under  jaw  drooped  even  more  than  usual  and  his 
big  brown  eyes  had  a  disconsolate  expression. 

The  world  was  looking  very  black  to  Sir  Peter.  He  was 
thinking  of  his  wrongs,  and  when  one  gets  to  thinking  of  one's 
wrongs,  it  is  better  to  change  the  subject,  for  no  good  can  come 
of  it  and  things  look  blacker  every  minute.  But  contrary  to  this 
bit  of  wisdom,  which  he  must  have  realized,  if  he  had  stopped 
to  think,  Sir  Peter  brooded  on  and  on  and  his  wrongs  grew  and 
multiplied. 

In  the  first  place,  he  did  not  like  the  Maison  de  Hen.  To  be 
sure,  it  was  pleasantly  located.  He  could  see  on  the  one  side 
the  blue  waters  of  the  little  bay,  and  on  the  other  the  porch 
of  the  old  White  Farmhouse,  where  everyone  in  his  small  world 
seemed  to  live.  Each  morning  he  was  allowed  to  come  out  of 
the  yard  of  his  house  and  have  a  frolic  with  his  mistress  and 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

Miss  Vixen.  But  although  that  would  seem  on  the  face  of  it,  a 
very  fine  thing,  still  it  had  its  drawbacks,  for  Miss  Vixen,  whom 
he  really  admired  very  much,  had  a  most  annoying  way  of  cry- 
ing out  and  enlisting  the  sympathy  of  others  when  he  had  not  so 
much  as  touched  her.  Then  his  master  would  say,  "  Not  so 
rough,  Peter,"  and  all  the  ladies  would  cry,  "  Oh,  did  he  hurt 
her?" 

Now  it  is  really  trying,  when  one  holds  a  friend  in  high  es- 
teem and  is  trying  one's  best  to  be  entertaining,  even  to  the 
extent  of  letting  that  friend  snap  at  one's  ears,  it  is  really  very 
trying,  argued  Peter  to  himself,  "  to  have  them  all  misunder- 
stand me  in  that  manner  and  even  my  master,  who  knows  I 
wouldn't  be  rude  for  the  world,  says,  '  Not  so  rough,  Peter,'  " 
and  Sir  Peter  sighed  so  heavily  as  to  scare  a  few  hens  who  lin- 
gered reminiscently  around  their  former  home. 

Then  his  morning  exercise  was  too  short  altogether  for  his 
health.  No  sooner  did  he  get  into  a  real  good  romp  or  go  on  a 
little  foraging  expedition  in  the  long  grass  near  the  dock,  when 
"creak-creak"  would  sound  the  ropes  of  the  sails,  there  would 
l>e  a  whistling,  a  gathering  up  of  bathing  suits,  and  a  general 


The  Best  Laid  Schemes. 

exodus  of  all  the  people.  Sir  Peter  would  be  summarily  re- 
called from  an  excited  bone  hunt  and  "  click  "  would  go  the 
padlock  on  the  gate  and  an  unhappy  bull  dog  would  be  standing 
inside  his  own  particular  fence,  watching  with  sad  eyes  a  little 
fleet  of  sail  boats  fast  disappearing  from  his  sight. 

Then,  too,  he  had  a  rival.  Two,  indeed,  if  one  counted  the 
lame  Dachshund,  who  came  to  call  every  day.  But  Miss  Vixen 
never  talked  much  to  the  Dachshund.  Beyond  a  pleasant  good 
morning,  she  rarely  addressed  him.  And  one  day  when  he  was 
calling  at  the  Maison  de  Hen  and  she  was  gnawing  a  specially 
fine  bone  and  talking  to  Sir  Peter,  on  the  approach  of  the  Dachs- 
hund she  had  departed  with  her  bone  in  a  most  dignified  manner, 
and  had  come  back  inside  of  ten  minutes  with  a  significantly 
dirty  nose. 

It  was  a  direct  snub,  and  the  Dachshund,  though  not  specially 
well-bred,  had  taken  the  hint,  and  after  a  few  remarks  on  the 
unusual  chilliness  of  the  atmosphere  for  an  August  day,  had 
walked  away  with  an  offended  air,  his  short  legs  turned  rather 
more  awry  than  usual.  No,  Sir  Peter  was  not  concerned  about 
the  "  Dutch  dog,"  as  he  called  him  disparagingly.  It  was  Sin- 

23 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

bad  whom  he  really  feared — Sinbad  with  the  black  curly  hair 
and  a  haughty  air  of  indifference. 

That  was  always  the  way.  Lie  down  and  be  trampled  on  and 
you  might  be  trampled  on,  but  assume  a  careless  air,  be  utterly 
unconscious  of  the  blandishments  of  the  fair  sex,  and  one  might 
take  the  very  bones  from  their  mouths  and  it  would  be  thought 
a  favor.  To  be  sure,  Sinbad  was  rather  old ;  at  least,  he  walked 
as  though  he  had  rheumatism,  but  what  are  a  few  gray  hairs 
when  all  the  rest  are  black  and  curly?  And  what  is  a  slight 
stiffness  in  the  legs  when  one  may  move  those  legs  all  over  the 
place  at  will  ?  At  the  thought  of  his  most  serious  grievance,  his 
incarceration  in  the  Maison  de  Hen,  Sir  Peter  looked  so  very 
ill-tempered  that  Miss  Vixen,  who  was  approaching  for  a  morn- 
ing call,  hesitated. 

"Oh,  come  along,  do,  Miss  Vixen,"  called  the  lonely  one. 
"  I'm  not  as  cross  as  I  look." 

"  I  should  hope  not,"  replied  Miss  Vixen.  "  I  met  three  hens 
running  away  from  here  like  mad.  What  had  you  said  to 
them  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word.    On  my  honor,  not  a  word." 
24 


The  Best  Laid  Schemes. 

"  Well,  they  must  have  looked  at-  you  then,  and  I  don't  won- 
der they  ran." 

"  JvTow  Miss  Vixen,  don't  be  cross,"  implored  Sir  Peter. 
"  How  would  you  like  it,  to  be  shut  up  here  and  see  all  the 
good  times  and  not  be  in  them  ?  I  might  as  well  be  in  the  dun- 
geon under  the  Maison  de  Hen." 

"  O,  is  there  a  dungeon  ? "  cried  Miss  Vixen,  her  little  silky 
black  ears  cocked  up  in  excitement.  "  O,  dear  Peter,  may  I  dig 
in  it  ?  I  was  longing  for  a  new  place  for  my  bones  and  a  dun- 
geon would  be  lovely." 

"My  dear  Miss  Vixen,  I  don't  know  whether  there  is  a  dun- 
geon or  not.  I  never  go  into  the  house  unless  it  rains,  or  to 
sleep,  and  then  I  lie  as  near  the  door  as  possible.  The  rooms 
are  very  stuffy." 

"  But  you  said—" 

"  Yes,  but  I  spoke  metaphorically." 

"  O,"  said  Miss  Vixen,  disappointed  and  crestfallen. 

"  There  " — Sir  Peter  spoke  less  haughtily.  "  If  there  was  a 
dungeon,  I  would  let  you  dig  in  it." 

"  Would  you  really,  Peter  ?  That  would  be  kind  of  you,  and 
25 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

now  I'll  tell  you  something  I  heard  of  you,  something  very 
nice." 

Sir  Peter  began  to  look  interested.  What  a  dear  little  thing 
Miss  Vixen  was ! 

"  You  know,"  she  began,  "  what  an  unpleasant  habit  Sinbad 
has  of  sleeping  in  the  middle  of  the  road  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  growled  Sir  Peter,  and  added  under  his  breath,  "Ill- 
mannered  beast !" 

"  Well,  my  mistress  and  I  started  to  go  across  to  the  cottage 
last  night.  It  was  awfully  dark,  but  I  thought  of  course  she 
saw  him.  My  dear  Peter,  imagine  that  rude  creature  seeing  us 
coming,  never  moving,  and  my  poor  dear  mistress  falling,  posi- 
tively falling,  over  him,  with  a  glass  of  water  in  one  hand  and  a 
plate  of  cookies  in  the  other." 

"  Horrible !  "  said  Sir  Peter.      «  What  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  Well,  several  things.  But  about  you,  she  said,  '  They  had 
better  lock  up  this  great  beast  and  let  Sir  Peter  loose.  At 
least,  Peter  would  know  enough  to  keep  out  of  the  road.'  " 

"  I  should  say  so.  Any  gentleman  would,"  said  Sir  Peter, 
26 


The  Best  Laid  Schemes. 

much  pleased  with  the  compliment.  "  Was  she  hurt  ?  "  he 
added,  sympathetically. 

"  No,  the  dear  thing,  I  am  glad  to  say  she  wasn't.  The  glass 
was  broken,  however,  and  she  went  to  get  some  more  water 
while  I  ate  the  cookies.  They  were  very  good,"  reflectively, 
"  and  rather  more  than  I  usually  get  at  one  time." 

Peter  sat  a  few  moments,  apparently  gazing  into  space.  Miss 
Vixen  looked  at  him  once  or  twice  and  knew  from  his  eyes  that 
he  was  very  angry  about  something.  She  glanced  about  to  see 
what  could  have  annoyed  him.  The  only  two  living  beings  in 
sight  were  on  the  porch.  An  old,  old  man  sat  in  a  big  rocking 
chair.  His  weather-beaten  face  had  a  fringe  of  white  whiskers 
about  it.  His  knotted  hands  were  clasped  about  a  thick  oak 
stick.  His  figure  was  bent  and  his  cracked  voice  uttered  half- 
intelligible  words.  But  those  dim  eyes  could  see,  and  those 
knotted  hands  could  bring  the  stick  down  hard  if  a  dog  ven- 
tured too  near.  Sir  Peter  and  Vixen  both  knew  it.  And 
stretched  beside  him  lay  his  friend  and  companion,  old,  stiff,  but 
ever  faithful,  the  ill-mannered  Sinbad. 

"  Vixen,"  said  Sir  Peter,  suddenly.  "  I  have  something 'very 
27 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

important  to  talk  to  you  about.  It  is  quite  confidential.  Sin- 
bad  must  never  know." 

"  I  shall  never  speak  to  Sinbad  after  last  night,"  answered 
Miss  Vixen.  "  But,  Peter  dear,  I  must  go  and  see  if  the  cook  has 
a  bone  for  me.  I've  not  been  to  the  kitchen  door  this  morning 
and  she  feels  hurt  if  I  neglect  her.  I'll  be  back  very  soon,  and 
Peter,"  as  she  was  leaving,  "  if  the  '  Dutch  dog/  as  you  call 
him,"  hastily,  "  happens  to  call,  make  him  think  I've  gone  to 
the  village.  Perhaps  he'll  walk  there  to  meet  me  and  then," 
she  called  back  over  her  shoulder,  "  we  can  have  our  talk  without 
fear  of  interruption." 

On  Miss  Vixen's  return  with  a  large  beef  bone  she  found 
Sir  Peter  in  much  better  spirits.  The  dirt  streak  had  disap- 
peared from  his  white  shirt  front,  and  the  corner  of  his  front 
yard  where  he  sat  was  free  from  stray  bones  and  sticks.  He 
lay  down  close  to  the  wire  fence  and  entered  into  a  long  con- 
versation with  his  friend.  A  conversation  which  proved  so  in- 
teresting and  so  astonishing  that  the  large  fine  beef  bone  was 
left  untouched  and  Miss  Vixen's  round  brown  eyes  almost  pop- 
ped out  of  her  head.  The  talk  was  carried  on  in  very  low  tones 

28 


The  Best  Laid  Schemes. 

and  nothing  was  heard  but  this:  "  Because  he's  Sinbad's  mas- 
ter ?  "  a  question  from  Miss  Vixen.  Then  this  high-sounding 
statement  from  Sir  Peter :  "  I  do  it  because  he  is  dangerous  to 
the  community." 

The  sails  of  the  little  fleet  came  into  view  just  then  and  Miss 
Vixen  picked  up  her  bone  and  buried  it  carefully  under  the 
nearest  tree,  after  which  she  ran  joyously  down  to  the  dock  to 
meet  her  mistress,  but  never  a  word  did  she  speak  of  the  dread- 
ful plot  that  had  been  laid  that  morning  in  the  front  yard  of  the 
erstwhile  peaceful  Maison  de  Hen. 

The  morning  after  the  consultation,  Miss  Vixen  called  at  the 
Maison  de  Hen.  It  was  a  little  late,  but  the  last  boat  was  just 
starting  from  the  dock,  and  the  white  isunbonnet  of  his  mis- 
tress was  still  visible  to  Sir  Peter's  mournful  eyes. 

"  It  wasn't  exactly  a  success,"  said  Miss  Vixen  in  a  quavering 
tone. 

She  gazed  fearfully  after  the  tall  form  of  Sir  Peter's  master 
standing  in  the  stern  of  the  good  ship  Phantom.  She  shud- 
dered a  little  at  the  recollection  of  a  rawhide  lash  curling  around 

29 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

a  brindle  body,  wielded  by  the  strong  arm  that  now  turned  the 
boat  toward  the  middle  of  the  bay. 

Sir  Peter  groaned  audibly. 

"  Miss  Vixen,"  he  said,  "  if  I  had  known  that  public  senti- 
ment would  be  so  wholly  against  me,  I  doubt  if  I  should  ever 
have  undertaken  it." 

"  Well,  but  Peter,  you  meant  it  for  the  best,"  said  Miss  Vixen 
consolingly.  "  Upon  my  word,  it  was  grand.  Your  leap,  I 
mean." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Sir  Peter.  "  I  timed  it  very  well.  If  that 
young  man  with  the  checkered  trousers  hadn't  interfered,  I 
should  have  had  him  by  the  throat,  and  then — " 

Miss  Vixen  shuddered.  She  had  never  killed  anything  bigger 
than  a  rat,  and  to  know  anyone  who  dared  attack  that  strange 
being  who  sat  about  all  day  armed  with  a  big  stick,  to  know  Sir 
Peter,  even  though  he  was  in  disgrace,  was  in  itself  a  privilege 
and  a  distinction. 

"  As  you  say,  Miss  Vixen,"  went  on  this  unappreciated  hero, 
"  I  meant  it  for  the  best.  You  know  that  we  decided  he  was 
dangerous  to  the  community." 

30 


The  Best  Laid  Schemes. 

"  An  ogre,  I  heard  my  mistress  say  it." 

"  He  speaks  in  a  strange  tongue.  I  can  only  understand  a 
word  now  and  then,  but  Vixen,  I  can  understand  that  stick." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Vixen  feelingly;  "  I  can,  too." 

"  It  made  my  blood  boil  the  other  day  when  he  struck  you.  I 
saw  him  from  this  corner.  The  longer  I  thought  about  it  the 
madder  I  got  and  I  thought  about  it  the  whole  afternoon.  Then 
too,  Vixen,  only  yesterday  little  Master  Phil  was  very  near  the 
ogre.  I  was  watching  and — 

"  O,  did  he  hit  him  ?  "  asked  Miss  Vixen  breathlessly. 

"  No,  but  he  might  have.  There  is  never  any  knowing  what 
an  ogre  will  do,  as  anyone  will  tell  you. 

Now  this  was  quite  an  assertion  for  Sir  Peter  to  make,  but 
when  one  is  trying  to  convince  one's  self,  one  is  apt  to  speak 
pretty  positively  on  doubtful  subjects. 

"  Do  ogres  always  have  white  fur  around  their  faces  ? " 
asked  Miss  Vixen,  plainly  curious. 

"  Most  always,"  answered  Sir  Peter,  with  the  air  of  one  in- 
timately acquainted  with  ogres. 

"  But,  Vixen,  I  will  tell  you  the  surest  proof  of  all." 
31 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

"  O,  what  is  it  ?  "  Miss  Vixen's  little  pink  tongue  hung  out 
of  her  mouth  and  she  panted  a  little.  This  was  most  interest- 
ing. 

"  Well,  the  biggest  proof  that  it  is  an  ogre  is,  that  when  it 
goes  where  any  people  are,  they  all  go  away." 

Miss  Vixen's  jaw  dropped.  "  I've  noticed  that  too,"  she  as- 
sented, "  but  I  thought  they  called  them  bores." 

"  It's  the  same  thing,"  said  Sir  Peter  hastily,  "  and  they  all 
ought  to  be  killed  off." 

"Well,  I'm  sure  you  are  right,  but  after  to-day — "  Miss 
Vixen  spoke  doubtfully. 

"  O,  after  to-day,"  said  Sir  Peter  with  the  air  of  one  bit- 
terly misunderstood,  "  after  to-day,  I  shall  let  someone  else  do 
the  killing." 


THE 

AMENDE 
HONORABLE 


33 


THE  AMENDE  HONORABLE 

VEEYTIIING  was  calm  and  peaceful  around  the 
old  farmhouse.  Absolutely  quiet,  too,  for 
all  the  boats  had  spread  their  white  sails 
and  disappeared  in  the  distance.  It  was 
the  hour  when  the  beach  was  crowded  and 
the  shores  of  the  little  bay  deserted. 

Pretty  soon,  a  sail  would  be  seen,  then 
two  or  three  more,  and  finally  each  boat 
of  the  whole  little  fleet  would  land  at  its 
own  dock.  Then  the  lawn  about  the 

farmhouse  would  be  made  gay  again  with  golf  skirts  and  sun- 
bonnets,  duck  suits  and  yachting  caps,  and  Sir  Peter  was  al- 
ways sure  of  a  certain  dark  red  skirt  and  white  sunbonnet 
separating  itself  from  the  crowd  and  making  straight  for  the 
Maison  de  Hen.  Then  would  follow  a  confidential  chat,  which 
was  one  of  the  bright  spots  in  the  dark  days  of  Sir  Peter's 
imprisonment. 

He  sat  now  in  his  accustomed  corner,  from  which  he  could  see 

35 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

furthest  down  the  bay,  and  thought  and  thought  so  hard  that 
three  deep  wrinkles  came  and  stayed  in  his  forehead  and  made 
him  look  very  cross  indeed.  But  Sir  Peter  was  not  cross.  He 
was  worried. 

How  could  a  gentleman  who  was  in  the  wrong,  who  had  be- 
haved in  an  unsportsmanlike  manner,  who  had  been  really 
guilty  of  bad  form,  and  who  wished  to  apologize  for  his  offence, 
how  could  such  a  gentleman  set  himself  right  with  the  one  whom 
he  had  offended  ? 

Yes,  Sir  Peter  desired  to  meet  Sinbad  and  to  offer  him  an 
apology.  He,  Sir  Peter,  would  be  going  away  soon  and  it  would 
be  hard  indeed  to  go  leaving  Sinbad  every  reason  to  believe  him 
a  miserable  cur  and  not  the  well-bred  English  bull  dog  he  called 
himself. 

O,  for  the  legs  of  a  greyhound,  that  he  might  jump  this  fence, 
find  Sinbad,  and  at  least  attempt  to  set  matters  straight ! 

Even  if  he  should  happen  to  see  Sinbad  going  by  and  should 
call  to  him,  how  could  he  offer  an  apology?  What  a  farce  it 
would  be  to  look  at  Sinbad  through  the  wire  fence,  and  say, 
"  Can  I  offer  you  any  satisfaction  for  my  rudeness  2" 

36 


The  Amende  Honorable. 

And  Sinbad !  What  would  he  reply  ?  "  Is  your  offer  made 
because  you  are  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence  ?" 

No,  it  was  clearly  impossible,  and  yet  he  would  give  all  the 
bones  he  expected  to  have  for  the  next  month  if  only —  Here 
his  friend  Miss  Vixen  appeared  for  her  morning  call.  She  wore 
a  small  English  flag  tied  in  the  ring  of  her  collar. 

"  A  present  from  your  mistress,"  she  said  sweetly ;  "It's  my 
birthday  to-day.  I'm  a  year  old." 

"Many  happy  returns,  Miss  Vixen,"  said  Sir  Peter.  "  Had 
you  many  gifts  2" 

"  Several,  thank  you,  Sir  Peter.  Among  others,  two  lamb 
chops  from  the  cook,  a  new  golf  ball  from  your  master  and  a 
fine  hide  and  seek  slipper  from  my  mistress. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  won't  care  much  for  my  gift,  but  may  I  hope 
you  will  accept  it  with  my  best  wishes  ?  It  is  quite  mellow.  It 
has  been  buried  for  you  for  some  time,"  and  Sir  Peter  drew  from 
under  a  large  burdock  leaf  a  delicious  bone  which  he  passed 
through  the  fence  to  Miss  Vixen. 

"  How  very  thoughtful  of  you,  Sir  Peter.  I  promise  myself 
a  delightful  luncheon  to-day.  Many  thanks.  Will  you  excuse 

37 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

me  a  moment  ?"  And  she  was  soon  digging  busily  at  the  foot  of 
the  nearest  tree. 

"  I  have  put  it  with  the  chops,"  she  announced  on  her  return, 
"  at  least,  with  what  is  left  of  them.  But  Peter,  why  do  you 
look  so  sad  this  morning  ?  You're  not  ill  ?" 

"  No,  I'm  not  ill,  but  sick  at  heart."  And  Sir  Peter  needed 
only  a  little  urging  to  pour  into  the  sympathetic  ears  of  his 
friend  the  trouble  tha,t  was  oppressing  him. 

Miss  Vixen  snapped  pensively  at  a  passing  fly.  "  I  see,"  she 
said ;  "  you  want  to  get  out  of  the  Maison  de  Hen,  if  only  long 
enough  to  see  and  apologize  to  Sinbad." 

Miss  Vixen  really  had  a  most  delightful  way  of  coming  to 
the  point  at  once. 

"  Yes,  that  is  it,"  assented  Sir  Peter;  "  but  my  gate  is  pad- 
locked and  I  could  never  jump  it  in  the  world." 

"  No,  you  couldn't,"  agreed  Miss  Vixen,  raising  her  little 
black  face  and  measuring  with  her  eye  the  height  of  the  fence. 
"  If  a  hen  couldn't  fly  over,  you  couldn't  jump  over." 

She  scratched  her  ear  slowly  and  thoughtfully.  Suddenly  she 
stood  up  close  to  the  fence.  "  Come  here,"  she  said,  in  an 

38 


The  Amende  Honorable. 

authoritative  tone.  Sir  Peter  obediently  put  his  big  head 
near  the  wire  netting  and  Miss  Vixen's  muzzle  almost  rested 
on  his  ear  for  several  seconds.  Then  he  nodded,  and  Miss  Vixen 
scampered  around  to  the  side  of  the  fence  farthest  from  the 
house  and  Sir  Peter  crossed  his  yard,  also  to  the  side  farthest 
from  the  house. 

After  a  while,  "  Now  try  it."  Then  the  sound  of  a  struggle 
and  a  grunt  of  distress. 

"  It  isn't  quite  deep  enough,  I'm  afraid." 

Then  a  silence. 

"  O,  Miss  Vixen,  I'm  afraid  you'll  tire  yourself  all  out." 

"  Nonsense — I've — often — done — this — for — fun." 

The  panting  voice  seemed  to  be  coming  from  the  earth. 

"  Now,  once  more.  If  you  can  get  your  shoulders  through, 
you're  all  right." 

Then  another  struggle.     A  mighty  one  this  time. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  I'll  dig  around  this  side  a  bit.  Pardon  me, 
did  I  scratch  you  ?" 

Then  something  between  a  grunt  and  a  groan.  Finally  a 
39 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

shaking  and  a  squeezing,  and  Sir  Peter  stood  by  Miss  Vixen  and 
on  the  outside  of  the  fence. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Vixen,  allow  me  to  brush  the  dirt  from  your 
coat." 

"  It  will  all  shake  off,"  said  Miss  Vixen,  as  she  rubbed  a  bit 
of  gravel  out  of  her  eye.  Her  white  coat  was  quite  soiled  and 
the  English  flag  hung  limp  on  her  chest.  Sir  Peter  pulled  it 
around. 

"  You  do  me  honor  by  wearing  it,"  he  said,  gallantly. 

Thus  it  was  that  five  minutes  later  Miss  Vixen's  mistress, 
lying  on  the  couch  by  her  window,  forgot  the  pain  in  her  head, 
which  had  kept  her  from  sailing,  on  seeing  a  brindle  bull  dog  and 
an  elderly  Newfoundland  walk  side  by  side  across  the  lawn, 
while  behind  them  trotted  a  small  fox  terrier,  who  looked  as 
innocent  as  a  little  white  rabbit. 

In  the  house  a  door  opened.  There  was  a  click  of  high  heels 
on  the  uncovered  stairs  and  a  white-faced  woman  appeared  on 
the  porch. 

"  Peter !  Peter !  "  she  called.  But  Sir  Peter  was  busily  en- 
gaged and  did  not  hear. 

40 


The  Amende  Honorable. 

"  O,  he  will  kill  him,"  and  she  wrung  her  hands.  Then  she 
picked  up  the  tail  of  her  gown  and  ran  after  the  dogs. 

The  cook  seeing  her  pass  the  kitchen  door,  looked  out.  Then 
she  followed,  armed  with  a  big  iron  spoon.  Mary,  the  chamber- 
maid, from  an  upper  window  saw  the  strange  procession,  grasped 
the  situation  and  flew  down  the  stairs  and  across  the  lawn. 

"  Sinbad !  Sinbad !  "  she  called ;  but  Sinbad  was  listening  to 
Sir  Peter  and  paid  no  attention. 

Just  then  little  Phil  tumbled  himself  out  of  the  hammock  and 
with  his  friend  and  chum,  Elise,  aged  six,  joined  the  company. 

"  Where  are  you  walking  to  ?"  he  inquired  of  the  pink-wrap- 
pered  lady.  Then  he  spied  the  dogs. 

"  O,  are  they  going  to  fight  ?  "  he  asked  in  an  awestruck  voice. 

It  was  dreadful  that  they  should  fight,  and  Sir  Peter's  master 
would  be  very  angry  about  it.  But  if  they  were  going  to  fight 
anyway,  there  was  a  sort  of  a  fearful  pleasure  in  being  a  wit- 
ness of  it. 

"  Mary,  where  is  the  old  man  ?"  called  Miss  \7ixen's  mistress. 
"  Maybe  he  could  get  Sinbad  away." 

"  Sure,  mum,  Sir  Peter,  he  hates  the  old  man.  Only  the 
41 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

other  day  he  jumped  at  him  and  knocked  him  down.  O,  it  was 
awful." 

All  this  time  they  were  walking  on.  The  dogs  had  reached 
the  long  grass  by  the  water's  edge  and  the  rest  of  the  company 
kept  along  the  bank  a  little  higher  up. 

"  Cook,  you  had  better  go  and  get  a  bone.  Perhaps  we  can 
get  them  apart  that  way.  Bring  two  bones,"  calling  after  her. 

"  Mary,  you  must  get  the  old  man.  I  don't  believe  Peter  will 
notice  him  now.  And,  children,  run  down  to  the  pump  and 
bring  a  pail  of  water." 

They  all  hastened  to  do  her  bidding  and  she  herself,  after  a 
few  more  unavailing  calls  to  Sir  Peter  and  a  vain  attempt  to  coax 
Miss  Vixen  away  from  the  scene,  turned  and  hurried  back  to 
the  house. 

Meanwhile,  Sir  Peter  was  saying  to  Sinbad :  "  !N"ow  you  see, 
old  man,  how  it  was.  I  had  no  business  to  attack  you  the  day  I 
came  and  I  am  mighty  sorry  about  it." 

"  Well,  Sir  Peter,  I  could  overlook  that.  We  all  make  mis- 
takes, and  then  I  had  no  idea  you  overheard  my  remarks  as  you 
were  getting  out  of  the  stage.  I  did  say,  '  There  comes  another 

42 


The  Amende  Honorable. 

town-bred  puppy.'  It  certainly  wasn't  hospitable,  to  say  the 
least." 

"  Well,  I  needn't  have  been  so  hasty,  but  the  long  ear  ride  had 
irritated  me." 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  interrupted  Sinbad.  "  As  I  say,  I  could 
overlook  all  that,  but  what  I  can't  forget  is  the  way  you  treated 
my  master  the  other  day.  That  did  seem  inexcusable." 

"  That  was  another  mistake,  Sinbad,  and  the  biggest  one  of 
all.  You  see  he  didn't  look  just  like  any  of  the  masters  I'd 
seen.  In  fact,  I  thought  he  was  dangerous.  Yes,"  as  Sinbad 
looked  at  him  in  surprise — "  I  really  thought  he  was  an  ogre." 

"An  ogre?     What  is  that?"  asked  Sinbad. 

"  Well,  now  that  I've  found  out  he  isn't  one,  I  don't  quite 
know  what  it  is.  But  I  want  to  assure  you,  Sinbad,  that  after 
this  your  master  has  no  firmer  friend  and  protector  than  your 
humble  servant." 

"  Sir  Peter,  you  are  a  gentleman.  I  accept  your  apology. 
All  offence  is  forgotten  like  a  last  year's  bone.  Say  no  more 
about  it.  Come,  Miss  Vixen,  let's  all  walk  back  together." 

At  which  whole-hearted  acceptance  of  a  well-turned  apology, 
43 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

the  amende  honorable  was  made,  and  Sinbad  and  Sir  Peter,  with 
little  Miss  Vixen  between  them,  walked  slowly  back  to  the  Mai- 
son  de  Hen. 

It  was  fifteen  minutes  later,  and  some  of  the  boats  had  come 
in.  Over  on  the  lawn  an  excited  group  was  talking  and  gesticu- 
lating. And  in  their  midst  was  a  figure  in  a  pink  wrapper,  with 
a  handkerchief  tied  around  its  head.  The  handkerchief  had 
gotten  twisted  and  the  ends  stood  up  like  horns. 

Sir  Peter,  from  his  corner,  watched  the  group  idly  and  won- 
dered what  all  the  commotion  was  about.  His  mind  was  at  rest 
and  he  waited  with  a  light  heart  for  the  boat  that  would  bring 
his  mistress. 

There  it  was  now.  He  saw  the  people  on  the  lawn  move  in  a 
body  down  to  the  dock.  The  shore  figure  in  the  pink  wrapper 
ran  up  to  the  tall  one  in  the  white  sunbonnet  and  then  there  was 
more  talking  and  pointing.  Then  they  both  walked  toward  the 
Maison  de  Hen. 

"  How  he  got  back  in  here,  I  don't  know,"  Miss  Vixen's  mis- 
tress was  saying.  "  The  cook  had  gone  for  a  bone ;  Mary  was 

44 


The  Amende  Honorable. 

trying  to  find  the  old  man,  to  see  if  he  could  get  Sinbad  away; 
the  children  had  run  for  a  pail  of  water  to  throw  on  them  as  soon 
as  they  should  begin  to  fight ;  and  I  had  hurried  into  the  house 
for  Vixen's  lash.  And  when  I  came  out  again,  here  was  Peter 
in  his  house.  No  one  was  about  and  the  gate  was  padlocked." 

Then  Sir  Peter  understood.     He  looked  up  at  his  mistress. 

"  I  wonder  if  he  jumped  the  fence,"  she  said. 

"  Jumped  the  fence !  It  would  take  a  kangaroo  to  jump  that 
fence,"  replied  her  friend.  She  spoke  rather  irritably.  Her 
head  had  begun  to  ache  again. 

"  There's  something  positively  uncanny  about  it,"  she  com- 
plained. 

"  O,  well,  somebody  can  explain  it,"  said  the  White  Sunbon- 
net,  easily.  "As  long  as  they  didn't  fight,  there's  no  harm 
done." 

But  no  one  did  explain  it,  for  no  one  could. 

It  was  while  everyone  was  at  luncheon,  that  a  little  white  form 
with  a  soiled  black  nose  came!  around  the  corner  of  the  Maison 
de  Hen. 

"  I've  made  that  place  look  a  little  better,"  said  Miss  Vixen. 
45 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

"  I  had  the  hole  all  filled  in  by  the  time  the  first  boat  reached 
the  dock,  but  I've  leveled  it  off  now.  Come  and  look  at  it." 

Together  they  looked  at  the  spot  where  the  little  paws  had 
tunneled  the  way  to  temporary  freedom  and  Sinbad. 

"  It  was  mighty  nice  of  you,"  said  Sir  Peter,  "  and  I'm  more 
than  grateful." 

"Don't  mention  it.  I  wish  I  could  have  dug  deeper,  so  you 
wouldn't  have  been  so  squeezed.  But  as  it  was  we  had  barely 
time—" 

"Did  you  hear  what*they  said?"  asked  Sir  Peter. 

Miss  Vixen,  nodded. 

"  I  wonder  if  he  jumped  the  fence,"  she  quoted,  saucily. 

Sir  Peter  grinned — a  large  far-reaching  grin.  Then  he 
looked  very  solemn  and,  gazing  down  into  Miss  Vixen's  face,  he 
slowly  and  gravely  winked  one  eye. 

There  was  a  little  giggle,  and  then  Miss  Vixen  walked  away  to 
her  luncheon,  two  delicious  chop  bones  and  another  bone — Sir 
Peter's  gift — which  she  had  buried  at  the  foot  of  the  nearest 
tree. 

46 


DOWN 

THE  ROAD 

WITH 

TOTO 


47 


DOWN  THE  ROAD  WITH  TOTO 


IR  PETER  was  starting  for  a  walk  with  his 
master.  "  I  wish  you  felt  like  going  with 
us,"  he  said  politely  to  Miss  Vixen. 

"  Come  along,  Peter ;  go  back,  Vixen," 
called  Sir  Peter's  master. 

Miss  Vixen  ignored  the  interruption. 
"  I'm  sorry  I  can't  go,  Sir  Peter,  but 
I  have  a  great  many  things  to  do  this 
afternoon." 

To  prove  the  truth  of  her  assertion,  she 
ran  down  to  the  water's  edge  and  chased  the  six  white  ducks 
— her  pet  aversion — into  the  bay.  After  Sir  Peter  had  dis- 
appeared from  view  she  ceased  her  efforts  and  sat  down  discon- 
solately on  the  end  of  the  dock. 

"  Now  what  can  I  do  all  the  afternoon  ?  "  she  said  to  herself. 
"  My  mistress  won't  be  back  till  dinner  time ;  Sir  Peter  has  gone 
for  a  walk — down  to  the  duck  pond  probably,  that's  why  they 
didn't  want  me."  That  'Go  back,  Vixen,'  rankled— "  I'd 

49 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

jump  in  and  chase  those  silly  things  some  more  only  the  water  is 
rather  cold.  Dear  me,  it  is  stupid  here  today." 

Sir  Peter  went  out  of  the  driveway  at  his  master's  heels.  A 
little  way  down  the  road  he  saw  approaching  the  awkward 
figure  of  the  Dachshund,  for  whom  he  had  no  affection  and 
more  or  less  contempt, 

"  Is  she  at  home?  "  called  Toto. 

"  Good  afternoon,"  responded  Sir  Peter  in  his  most  superior 
manner.  The  Dutch  dog  was  really  most  ill-bred.  "  Miss 
Vixen  is  on  the  lawn,  I  believe." 

"  Thanks,  lovely  day,  isn't  it  ? "  returned  the  Dachshund, 
wholly  unabashed. 

And  he  trotted  along  on  his  little  short  legs,  with  his  nose  so 
near  the  ground  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  dust  must  choke  him. 

Miss  Vixen  saw  him  as  he  came  slowly  down  the  dock.  He 
always  approached  her  timidly  and  humbly.  He  never  quite 
knew  how  she  would  treat  him.  She  might  be  graciously  dis- 
posed for  a  romp,  or  she  might  sit  by  in  haughty  silence.  That 
was  bad  enough,  for  Toto  was  not  a  good  conversationalist,  but 
worst  of  all  was  when  she  talked  exclusively  with  Sir  Peter — 
Miss  Vixen  was  rather  rude  at  times — for  on  those  occasions 

so 


Down  the  Road  with  Toto. 

there  was  absolutely  nothing  to  do  but  say  good-bye  and  depart. 
But  to-day  Miss  Vixen  was  most  cordial. 

"  Why,  Toto,"  she  called,  "  I'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you.  I've 
been  wondering  why  you  haven't  been  over." 

"  I  just  met  Sir  Peter,"  replied  Toto,  as  he  seated  himself 
near,  "  and  he  thought  I'd  find  you  at  home." 

"  Yes,  he  asked  me  to  go  for  a  walk,  but  I  was  very  busy  just 
then.  However,  I'm  at  leisure  now  and  I'd  be  delighted  to  go 
down  the  road  with  you." 

Toto  gasped.  Such  condescension  on  Miss  Vixen's  part  was 
almost  unheard-of. 

"  Why  certainly,  I'd  like  nothing  better,"  he  answered.  "  I'd 
have  suggested  it  myself  only  I — I  thought  you  never  went  off 
the  grounds." 

"  O,  well,  I  don't,  often,  but  my  mistress  is  in  town  for  the 
day  and  Mary  is  really  too  busy  to  play  with  me.  Sir  Peter  is 
away,  as  you  know,  and  Sinbad  is  so  lazy.  However,  if  you 
don't  care  to  walk  with  me — " 

"O,  Miss  Vixen,  you  know  better.    Let's  start  at  once." 

In  a  very  few  minutes  there  passed  through  the  driveway  gate 
51 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

a  slender  fox  terrier,  whose  black  face  was  lighted  by  a  pair  of 
observant  brown  eyes,  and  whose  silky  ears  were  alert  for  every 
sound.  Her  snowy  white  coat  was  in  decided  contrast  to  the 
dull,  rough,  black  hair  of  her  companion.  His  long,  mournful 
face  ended  in  a  Roman  nose,  and  the  sad  look  in  his  big  eyes 
was  contradicted  by  a  large  unconscious  smile.  His  short  legs 
with  the  paws  turned  far  out  seemed  set  on  at  four  corners,  and 
he  walked  like  a  mechanical  toy. 

Not  far  down  the  road  stood  a  little  wooden  building.  Miss 
Vixen  knew  it  well,  and  was  well  acquainted  with  the  old  man 
who  served  home-made  ice  cream  at  the  small,  oilcloth-covered 
tables.  Once  when  she  and  her  mistress  and  Sir  Peter  and  the 
White  Sunbonnet  were  alone  in  the  place,  the  four  had  occupied 
chairs  around  one  table  and  she  and  Sir  Peter  had  been  given 
spoonfuls  of  cream  when  the  old  man  wasn't  looking.  Sir  Peter 
had  thought  this  rather  beneath  his  dignity  and  had  said  he  was 
afraid  he'd  swallow  the  spoon,  but  the  rest  thought  it  great  fun 
and  Miss  \7ixen  had  never  forgotten  it. 

"  Let's  look  in  here  a  minute,"  she  said  to  Toto  as  they  were 
passing.  So  the  little  black  face  was  pushed  close  to  the  screen 

52 


Down  the  Road  with  Toto. 

door,  and  the  small  girl  who  had  charge  of  the  peppermint  sticks 
and  pickles  and  such  delicacies,  called  out  from  behind  the 
counter,  "  O,  grandfather,  here's  that  little  dog  again.  Can't  I 
give  her  some  ice  cream  ?  " 

The  old  man  didn't  consider  his  "  ice  cream  parlor  "  quite  the 
place  for  dogs,  but  he  was  good-natured  and  said,  "  Yes,  as  long 
as  there's  no  one  here,  I  s'pose  you  might,  but  keep  the  door  shet, 
or  that  there  dirty  black  critter'll  get  in." 

So  Toto  was  left  on  the  porch  outside,  and  while  the  little 
girl  was  digging  a  long-handled  spoon  into  a  big  freezer,  Miss 
Vixen  looked  out  through  the  screen.  "  They  don't  seem  to  un- 
derstand that  you're  with  me,"  she  said  apologetically. 

"  Never  mind,"  replied  Toto  cheerfully.  "  I  don't  care  much 
for  ice  cream  "• — he  had  never  tasted  it  in  all  his  life.  And 
then  the  little  girl  came  with  a  saucer  and  in  a  few  minutes  Miss 
Vixen  came  out  much  refreshed  and  in  even  better  humor  than 
before. 

"  Let's  go  up  through  this  bit  of  woods,"  she  suggested.  "  Up 
among  those  trees  there's  a  fine  place  all  covered  with  pine 
needles,  where  we  can  have  a  lovely  race." 

53 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

Toto  looked  doubtfully  at  his  little  short  legs,  which  were  ob- 
viously not  built  on  a  racing  model,  but  he  acquiesced  cheerfully 
and  said  nothing  about  the  handicap  which  certainly  was  his 
due.  In  the  midst  of  the  tall  trees  they  found,  as  Miss  Vixen 
had  said,  a  circular  spot,  with  a  carpet  of  soft  needles,  and 
large  enough  to  make  a  fine  race  track. 

"  Shall  we  run  together  or  one  at  a  time  ? "  asked  Toto 
anxiously. 

"  Just  as  you  like,"  answered  Miss  Vixen  amiably. 

"We  might  start  together,"  said  Toto. 

So  off  they  went,  Miss  Vixen  with  light,  quick  bounds  which 
rapidly  grew  into  a  gallop — and  Toto  at  a  gait  which  resembled 
nothing  so  much  as  a  decorous  wooden  rocking-horse.  Round 
and  round  raced  the  little  black  and  white  figure — grew  dizzy — 
cut  across  the  middle  of  the  circle,  and  round  and  round  tho 
other  way.  O,  it  was  delightful.  The  soft,  warm  air  rushing 
by,  the  scent  of  the  pine  needles,  the  glorious  exercise — she  for- 
got it  was  a  race,  and  didn't  know  that  after  two  laps  the  rock- 
ing-horse movement  had  stopped  and  a  weary  little  Dachshund 
had  lain  down  just  outside  the  circle  under  a  shady  tree  and  was 

54 


Down  the  Road  with  Toto. 

gazing  at  her  with  wonder  and  amazement.  At  last,  tired  out, 
she  slowed  up  and  threw  herself  down  panting. 

"  O,  that  was  fine,"  she  said;  "where  are  you,  Toto?" 

"  Here,"  said  a  voice  behind  her. 

Miss  Vixen  rolled  lazily  over  on  her  side.  "  I'm  afraid  you 
didn't  enjoy  it  as  much  as  I  did,"  she  said.  "  I'm  awfully  keen 
on  racing.  Sir  Peter  and  I  each  have  a  bone  up  on  a  race  we're 
going  to  have  to-morrow  morning,  that  is,  if  he  can  get  out  of 
the  Maison  de  Hen  long  enough." 

"  I  hope  you'll  win,"  said  Toto. 

"  Thank  you,  you're  very  kind.  Sinbad  holds  the  stakes — at 
least  he  has  buried  the  bones — and  the  course  is  up  over  the  ten- 
nis court  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  back." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it,"  said  Toto  suggestively. 

"  O,  come  over,  if  you  like,"  replied  Miss  Vixen,  carelessly. 
"  Only  don't  get  too  near  us,  for  Sir  Peter  has  only  about  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  for  his  morning  exercise,  and  we've  got  to  start 
when  no  one  is  looking,  and  then  pretend  we  don't  hear.  Well, 
suppose  we  go  down  the  road  a  little  farther." 

They  rose,  stretched  themselves,  and  trotted  down  the  dusty 

55 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

road".  It  was  getting  toward  five  o'clock,  a  perfect  summer  day. 
Stalks  of  golden-rod  nodded  at  them  as  they  passed  and  clumps 
erf  asters  waved  to  and  fro  in  the  light  breeze.  A  few  hens 
crossed  the  road  ahead  of  them.  One,  an  awkward,  half -grown 
chicken,  frightened  by  a  passing  wagon,  squawked,  fluttered  back 
and  forth,  and  finally  ran  directly  under  the  horses'  noses  and 
landed,  solitary  but  safe,  on  the  grassgrown  sidewalk. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  stupid  thing?"  asked  Miss  Vixen. 
"  Come  on,  Toto,  let's  drive  her  into  that  yard  where  the  others 
"went.  You  stand  by  the  gate  and  don't  let  her  by." 

Miss  Vixen  dashed  ahead  and  rounded  up  the  half-grown 
chicken  with  the  ease  and  recklessness  of  a  ranchero.  The  bird 
came  toward  Toto  with  outstretched  wings  and  shrieks  of  terror, 
and  Toto,  with  one  feeble  little  bark,  stood  to  one  side,  while 
pursued  and  pursuer  swept  by,  leaving  him  open-mouthed  and 
self-accused. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  Miss  Vixen  will  be  awfully 
annoyed,  but  that  hen  looked  fairly  ugly." 

Then  the  noise  came  nearer  again,  and  turning  he  had  just 
time  to  get  out  of  the  way  as,  with  a  flutter  of  wings,  the  hen  rose 
in  the  air  and  flew  over  the  low  fence,  ignoring  the  open  gate. 

56 


Down  the  Road  with  Toto. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  have  been  of  no  more  assistance,"  he  told  Miss 
Vixen,  "  but  really,  she  paid  no  attention  to  me." 

"Attention!  I  should  say  not,"  declared  Miss  Vixen. 
"  Why  should  she  ?  '  Wow  !'  "  and  she  gave  a  good  imitation  of 
Toto's  ineffective  bark.  "  Thank  goodness,"  she  went  on,  "  it 
takes  more  than  a  hen  to  scare  me.  I've  never  yet  seen  the  hen 
that  could — 

Just  then  out  of  the  gate  came  a  huge,  black  hen,  with  wings 
flapping,  and  notes  of  war  issuing  from  her  open  beak.  Miss 
Vixen  gave  one  look  and  took  to  her  four  feet,  Toto  following. 
The  black  hen  stayed  in  the  gateway  and  scolded.  After  they 
had  gotten  safely  away,  Miss  Vixen — occasionally  hasty,  but 
always  just — announced :  "  They  do  look  different,  face  to, 
Toto.  Did  the  one  I  chased  look  as  bad  as  that  ? " 

"  Pretty  nearly,"  said  Toto. 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  much  of  hens  anyway.  Ducks  are  bet- 
ter, though  they  are  so  silly.  They  never  face  you.  I'm  getting 
tired,  Toto,"  she  remarked  a  little  later,  "  and  I'm  so  thirsty." 

('  I  live  down  here  a  little  way,"  said  Toto.  "  Come  in  and 
see  my  mother — she-  always  has  a  dish  of  fresh  water,  and  we  can 
rest  a  while." 

57 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

So  Miss  Vixen  accompanied  the  Dachshund  into  a  tiny  garden 
at  the  back  of  a  tiny  house,  where  at  the  door  of  a  wee  little  dog 
house  lay  Toto's  mother.  "  Ah !  Hiindschen,"  she  called. 
"Ah!  Mutter,"  called  back  Toto. 

"  Excuse  us,"  he  said  to  Miss  Vixen ;  "  she  speaks  only  Ger- 
man." 

So  he  explained  to  his  mother  that  the  Fraulein  Vixen  was 
sehr  mude  and  wanted  wasser  zu  trinken  and  had  die  mutter 
etwas  zu  essen  ?  "  Miss  Vixen  shared  the  basin  of  water,  and 
being  offered  a  piece  of  dog  biscuit,  disposed  of  it  in  small  bites 
and  said  "  Danke  schbn!  "  to  the  old  lady  Dachshund,  those  be- 
ing the  only  German  words  she  knew.  Toto's  mother  was  very 
courteous  and  told  her  son  to  offer  their  visitor  another  bit  of 
biscuit,  but  Miss  Vixen  declined,  and  said  she  really  must  be 
going. 

"  She'll  be  so  pleased  to  think  you  came  in,"  Toto  assured  her. 
"  She's  very  lonely.  We're  the  only  ones  left,"  he  said  sadly. 

"  You  have  a  very  pleasant  home,  I'm  sure,"  said  Miss  Vixen, 
and  I  thank  you  and  your  mother  for  your  hospitality.  Now 

58 


Down  the  Road  with  Toto. 

I'm  afraid  I  shall  have  to  run  back  all  the  way,  for  I  heard  the 
whistle,  and  my  mistress  will  soon  be  home." 

"  I  shall  go  with  you,  of  course,"  said  Toto.  "  I  couldn't 
think  of  allowing  you  to  go  alone."  Though  in  his  heart  he 
thought  if  she  "  ran  all  the  way  "  she  would  of  necessity  go  alone, 
for  he  knew  he  could  never  keep  up  with  her. 

But  just  then  the  stage  came  along  and  some  one  called  out, 
"  Why,  there's  Vixen."  And  another  voice — her  mistress's 
voice,  "  Dear  me,  I  told  Mary  not  to  let  her  off  the  grounds. 
She's  been  playing  with  that  dreadful  Dachshund  and  I  know 
she's  covered  with  fleas." 

O,  it  was  mortifying!  To  have  accepted  Toto's  hospitality, 
his  best,  and  no  one  could  do  more,  and  then  to  have  him  hear 
one's  own  mistress  say  such  a  rude,  rude  thing. 

"  Never  mind,"  she  said  to  Toto,  and  she  had  never  spoken  so 
kindly  to  the  little  dog  before.  "  I  enjoyed  our  walk  very  much. 
I  had  a  lovely  time  at  your  house,  and  I  haven't  felt  a  single 
flea."  And  as  a  man  picked  her  up  and  handed  her  into  the 
stage,  she  called  out,  "  Be  sure  and  come  up  for  the  race  to-mor- 


row morning." 


59 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 


Toto  watched  the  stage  out  of  sight  and  then  walked  back  to 
where  his  old  mother  lay  dozing  in  the  sun.  She  roused  up  as 
he  sat  down  beside  her.  "  Well,  liebe"  she  said,  "  and  hadst 
thou  a  pleasant  afternoon  ?" 

"  Ja,  mutterchen"  replied  Toto. 

"  They  are  kind  to  thee  up  at  the  big  white  house  ?"  she  asked. 

And  Toto  replied  once  more,  "  Ja,  mutterchen." 

Then  the  mother  fell  into  a  doze  again,  but  Toto  gazed  out  into 
the  road,  and  the  sad  look  in  his  eyes  was  contradicted  by  a  large 
•unconscious  smile. 


60 


A 

CLOSE 
FINISH 


ACLOSE  FINISH 

§T  was  the  morning  of  the  great  race.  Miss  Vixen  stood  by 
the  gate  of  the  Maison  de  Hen,  making  the  last  arrange- 
ments with  Sir  Peter. 

"  Up  over  the  tennis  court,"  she  repeated,  for  about  the  eighth 
time,  "  twice  around  the  big  tree  in  the  field  and  back  to  the 
end  of  the  dock." 

"  It's  a  pretty  stiff  course,"  said  Sir  Peter. 
"  I  know  it,"  agreed  Miss  Vixen,  "  but  it's  a  pretty  big  bone." 
"  That's  so,"  said  Sir  Peter,  looking  through  his  wire  fence 
at  Sinbad,  who  was  approaching.      Sinbad  had  in  his  mouth  a 
mighty  bone,  the  relic*  of  a  roast  of  beef  that  had  once  graced 
the  bountiful  table  of  the  farmhouse  lady. 

"  When  do  you  start  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  laid  the  trophy  down 
and  guarded  it  carefully  with  his  paw. 

"  I'll  be  out  in  a  few  minutes  now,"  said  Sir  Peter.  "  Save 
your  breath,"  he  called  to  Miss  Vixen,  as  she  started  away. 

"  I  was  only  going  to  see  if  Toto  was  coming,"  she  explained, 
lying  down  obediently.  "  You  see,  he  and  his  mother  were  very 

63 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

nice  to  me  yesterday  and  my  mistress  was  awfully  rude.  Not 
that  she  meant  to  be,"  she  hastened  to  add,  "  but  she  spoke  about 
fleas  right  before  him,  and  so  to  make  it  all  right,  I  rather  urged 
him  to  come  over  this  morning  and  see  the  race.  I  hope  you 
don't  mind." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Sinbad. 

"  Not  if  he  keeps  out  of  the  way,"  said  Sir  Peter.  "  I  have  a 
dreadful  feeling  that  I'm  going  to  knock  something  over." 

Sinbad  looked  up  quickly. 

"  I  shall  be  very  careful,"  added  Sir  Peter,  hastily,  glancing 
around  over  his  shoulder  at  Sinbad's  master  in  his  old  arm  chair 
on  the  porch. 

"I  hope  he  stays  there,"  he  muttered  under  his  breath.  Just 
then  the  Pink  Sunbonnet  came  along. 

"Ready  for  a  run,  Peter — boy?"  she  asked,  and  the  gate 
clicked  and  Sir  Peter  put  his  paws  on  his  mistress's  shoulder 
and  said  good  morning;  Miss  Vixen  put  her  paws  on  the  Pink 
Sunbonnet's  short  skirt  and  Sinbad  wagged  his  tail,  while  lit- 
tle Toto  sat  down  a  short  way  off  and  admired  the  group. 

Then  they  all  started  for  the  shore,  and  the  people  sitting 
64 


A  Close  Finish. 

under  the  trees  by  the  water's  edge,  waiting  for  the  boats  to  be 
got  ready,  called  "  Good  morning,  Sir  Peter,"  and  petted  Miss 
Vixen.  But  Sinbad  remained  a  little  in  the  distance,  guarding 
the  prize,  and  poor  little  Toto  felt  rather  out  of  it,  for  someone 
said,  "  There's  that  funny  Dachshund  again,"  and  Miss  Vixen's 
mistress  stamped  her  foot  and  said,  "  Shoo."  All  of  which  was 
very  hard  to  bear,  especially  as  he  had  been  invited  to  watch  the 
race.  But  Miss  Vixen  wheeled  around  and  ran  up  to  him. 

"Why,  Toto,"  she  said ;  "  I  didn't  see  you  before.  I'm  glad 
you  came.  How  is  your  mother  this  morning  ?" 

So  Toto  brightened  up  and  said  that  his  mother  was  very  well, 
and  that  he  was  delighted  to  see  Miss  Vixen  in  such  fine  con- 
dition for  the  race. 

"  You  had  better  stand  over  to  one  side,"  suggested  Miss 
Vixen  as  she  explained  their  course  to  him.  "  Or  go  up  to  the 
bank  above  the  tennis  court.  You  can  see  it  all  from  there." 

So  Toto  clambered  up  the  two  terraces  to  the  place  Miss«Vixen 
had  pointed  out  and  found  Sinbad  there  with  the  bone. 

"  Ah,  the  judges'  stand,"  said  Toto.     "  Do  I  intrude  ?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Sinbad.  "  Just  stay  a  little  behind  me, 
65 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

that's  all.  I  can  see  from  here  down  to  the  tree  and  back  clear 
to  the  end  of  the  dock." 

"  It's  a  fine  position,"  said  Toto. 

Down  in  the  long  grass  by  the  water,  Sir  Peter  and  Miss 
Vixen  were  making  ready.  Everybody  was  occupied  in  a  dis- 
cussion of  the  coming  boat  race. 

"  All  ready  ?"  asked  Sir  Peter. 

"  All  ready,"  said  Miss  Vixen. 

"  Then  go !"  shouted  Sir  Peter. 

There  was  a  rush  and  a  slender  fox  terrier  followed  by  a  brin- 
dle  bull  dog,  flew  over  the  lawn  and  across  the  carriage  drive. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  cried  the  Pink  Sunbonnet*  "  Peter, 
Peter,  come  back." 

"  Vixen,  Vixen,"  called  a  voice,  but  the  racers  stopped  not. 

Sir  Peter  gained  on  Miss  Vixen,  going  up  the  first  bank  in 
two  big  leaps.  Across  the  tennis  court  they  tcire.  Little  Phil, 
with  a  racket  in  his  hand,  stood  directly  in  their  path. 

Sir  Peter  could  neither  stop  nor  turn.  Phil  waved  his  racket 
;wildly  in  the  air  for  a  moment,  and  then  Peter  was  across  the 

66 


A  Close  Finish. 

court  and  a  small  boy  was  picking  himself  and  his  racket  out 
of  the  dust. 

Up  the  next  bank  and  out  of  sight  raced  the  dogs.  Miss  Vix- 
en's mistress  ran  to  brush  the  dirt  from  little  Phil,  and  the  Pink 
Sunbonnet  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  second  terrace. 

"  Come  back  here,  Peter.  What  is  the  matter  with  him  V9 
she  asked  of  nobody  in  particular. 

Sinbad,  standing  by  with  one  paw  on  the  bone,  wagged  his  tail 
reassuringly,  but  kept  his  eyes  on  the  distant  figures,  while  Toto 
hopped  excitedly  about  on  his  short,  crooked  legs.  Down  by  the 
water  the  people  were  scattering.  They  really  didn't  think 
there  was  anything  the  matter,  but  it  was  just  as  well  to  be  on 
the  safe  side.  So  some  got  into  their  boats  and  pushed  out  a 
little  way  from  the  dock,  and  others  hurried  up  to  the  farmhouse 
porch.  The  door  was  open. 

"  They're  running  round  and  round  a  tree,"  screamed  the 
Pink  Sunbonnet.  She  came  tearing  down  the  bank  and  on  to  the 
tennis  court.  "  He  must  be  mad  from  being  shut  up  so  long. 
O,  I  wish  Ted  was  here,"  and  she  seized  little  Phil  by  the  arm 
and  dragged  him  toward  the  house. 

67 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

Miss  Vixen's  mistress  cought  the  words  "  roiind  and  round  " 
and  ran  up  to  where  Sinhad  was  standing.  Miss  Vixen,  nearly 
a  lap  ahead  of  Sir  Peter,  with  her  black  muzzle  close  to  the 
ground,  was  flying  around  in  a  circle.  Sir  Peter's  circle  was 
larger,  and  not  a  very  good  one  at  that,  for  he  had  not  practiced 
racing  around  things  as  Miss  Vixen  had.  Miss  Vixen's  mis- 
tress began  to  laugh. 

"  !N"o  wonder  she  was  frightened,"  she  said,  referring  to  the 
Pink  Sunbonnet.  "  If  I  hadn't  seen  Vixen  do  that  so  many 
time^ —  But  what's  old  Peter  trying  it  for  ? "  and  she  laugbed 
harder  as  Sir  Peter  finished  his  last  lap  around  the  tree  at  an 
acute  angle  and  started  back  across  the  field  after  Miss  Vixen. 

Down  under  a  shady  tree  a  stout  man  had  been  sitting.  !X<  >\\ 
he  was  standing  against  the  tree  with  his  chair  poised  as  a 
weapon  of  defence. 

"  It's  all  right,"  cried  Miss  Vixen's  mistress,  running  up  to 
the  stout  man  and  pulling  at  his  coat — she  couldn't  reach  the 
chair.  "  They're  only  playing." 

But  the  sight  of  a  red-mouthed  bull  dog  tearing  down  over  the 
embankment  and  apparently  straight  at  him,  to  say  nothing  of 

68 


A  Close  Finish. 

the  terrier,  with  her  body  stretched  to  the  ground  that  she  fairly 
flew  over,  this  sight  was  more  convincing  to  the  stout  man  than 
any  words  could  be. 

"  Look  out !"  he  shouted.  "  They're  both  mad,"  and  he 
pushed  her  behind  him  and  took  a  firmer  hold  on  the  chair  legs. 

But  right  by  the  group  on  the  porch  raced  the  dogs,  right  by 
the  stout  man  and  the  uplifted  chair,  out  on  to  the  dock,  side  by 
side  to  the  very  end — then  a  splash,  followed  by  a  louder  one, 
and  the  great  race  was  over. 

A  big  head  appeared  above  the  water,  a  small  black  one  be- 
side it,  and  both  heads  slowly  approached  the  shore. 

"  Best  race  I  ever  had."  Miss  Vixen  spoke  with  difficulty. 
Sir  Peter  only  puffed. 

"  Let's  make  straight  for  the  Maison  de  Hen,"  he  said,  when 
he  could  get  his  breath.  "  There  seems  to  be  a  lot  of  people  in 
the  boat£.  They  must  be  going  to  the  beach  now  and  I'll  have 
to  go  in,  anyway." 

Over  the  sides  of  the  sailboats  appeared  many  faces. 

"  They  seem  to  be  all  right,"  said  someone. 

"  They  say  mad  dogs  hate  the  water,"  said  another.     And 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

then  as  the  two  dogs  reached  the  shore,  t^ie  Piiik  Sunbonnet 
came  down  from  the  porch  and  called  to  Sir  Peter  in  rather  a 
limp  voice.  He  shook  himself  and  ran  up  to  her,  his  big  mouth 
still  open  and  his  tongue  hanging  out. 

"  You  scared  me  almost  to  death,"  said  the  Pink  Sunbonnet, 
severely.  "  What  are  you  going  to  do  next  ?  And  you  used  to 
be  so  good  in  town." 

Sir  Peter  hung  his  head  and  tail  at  her  reproachful  voice. 
She  took  him  by  the  collar  and  pulled  him  along  in  no  very  gen- 
tle fashion.. 

"  Kbw  walk  into  the  Maison  de  Hen,"  she  said ;  "  You  can't 
be  let  out  again  till  your  master  comes.  You're  too  much  for 
me." 

All  of  which  goes  to  show  how  dearly  one  has  to  pay  for  a  bit 
of  pleasure. 

Miss  Vixen's  mistress  was  still  laughing  "  They  looked  so 
funny,"  she  gasped ;  "  I've  seen  Vixen  run  round  and  round  so 
many  times  and  she  looks  like  a  little  white  ghost.  But  Peter — 

"  Looked  like  a  big  black  devil,"  rudely  interrupted  the  stout 
man. 

70 


A  Close  Finish. 

"  If  it  wasn't  such  hot  weather,  we  wouldn't  have  thought  any- 
thing of  it,"  somebody  explained. 

"  I  was  going  to  the  house  anyway,"  said  another.  And  then 
they  all  said  it  was  time  to  go  to  the  beach. 

By  this  time,  Sinbad,  Toto  and  Miss  Vixen  had  all  gathered 
at  the  Maison  de  Hen. 

"  It  was  a  very  close  race,"  said  Sinbad,  judicially.  "  You 
.were  really  at  the  end  of  the  dock  together,  but  I  can't  divide 
the  bone  and  Miss  Vixen  did  strike  the  water  first." 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Vixen,  "  It  wasn't  in  the  conditions  that 
we  should  jump  in,  but  I  couldn't  stop.  So  I  didn't  really  win 
it." 

"  I  feel  that  it  is  yours,"  said  Sir  Peter ;  "  I  think  you 
jumped  first." 

"  You  will  have  to  settle  it  between  you,"  said  Sinbad ;  "  I 
declare  the  race  a  draw." 

Sir  Peter  and  Miss  Vixen  both  happened  to  be  looking  at 
Toto.  His  eyes  were  fixed  longingly  on  the  prize  bone.  In  all 
his  life  he  had  never  seen  one  like  it.  Sir  Peter  and  Miss  Vixen 

71 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

looked  at  each  other.  Miss  Vixen's  eyes  said  "  Shall  we  2 " 
and  Sir  Peter's  answered  "  The  very  thing." 

So  Miss  Vixen  took  the  bone  in  her  strong  little  teeth  and 
carried  it  over  to  the  Dachshund.  She  laid  it  down  in  front  of 
him. 

"  It  is  for  you,"  she  said ;  "  from  Sir  Peter  and  me." 

Toto  could  hardly  believe  his  ears.  He  touched  the  bone  with 
one  crooked  paw  and  looked  at  all  three  dogs.  Yes,  it  was 
really  for  him.  It  was  true. 

The  Pink  Sunbonnet,  turning  for  a  last  look  from  the  deck 
of  her  boat  up  at  the  Maison  de  Hen,  saw  an  unattractive-look- 
ing Dachshund  staggering  toward  the  driveway  gate,  holding 
in  his  mouth  a  huge  bone,  which  balanced  from  side  to  side,  like 
the  pole  of  a  tight-rope  walker. 

"  Look,"  she  said  to  Miss  Vixen's  mistress.  "  That  horrid 
little  Toto  has  stolen  Sinbad's  bone." 

And  this  remark  just  proves  how  wrong  we  may  be  in  our 
judgment  of  others. 


A 

MORNING'S 
EXPERIENCE 


73 


A  MORNING'S  EXPERIENCE 

BOAT  is  no  place  for  a  dog." 

The  stout  man  was  not  cross,  but  he 
spoke  as  if  he  knew  what  he  was  talking 
about. 

The  stout  man  was  Keeper  of  the 
Sacred  Center-board  of  the  good  ship 
Phantom.  Though  not  holding  as  high 
a  position  as  the  Captain,  who  steered; 
or  the  Admiral,  who  sat  on  the  gunwale 
and  smoked  a  pipe  and  told  the  Cap- 
tain when  to  come  about;  or  even  as  William,  who  tended 
sheet  and  kept  the  Phantom  in  apple-pie  order,  and  had  known 
the  Long  Island  shore  from  childhood — although,  I  say,  the 
keeper  of  the  Sacred  Center-board  was  not  of  the  rank  of  these 
officers,  still  there  was  no  denying  that  he  spoke  the  mind  of 
his  superiors,  when  he  said :  "  A  boat  is  no  place  for  a  dog." 
Miss  Vixen's  mistress  buttoned  her  oilskin  reefer  and  said, 
"  It's  going  to  be  a  wet  sail,  I  believe,"  just  as  if  she  wasn't 

75 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

interested  in  dogs  at  all,  although  the  small  black  and  white  one 
at  her  feet  was  asking  with  two  soft  brown  eyes,  "  May  I  go  ?  " 

She  herself  didn't  want  Miss  Vixen  in  the  boat  that  morning, 
but  she  didn't  like  to  feel  that  no  one  else  wanted  her  either. 
She  wouldn't  argue  with  the  stout  man  about  it,  though.  He 
had  a  way  of  sighing  when  anyone  differed  from  him.  It  gave 
you  the  idea  that  if  he  tried,  he  could  convince  you  that  you  were 
hopelessly  in  the  wrong,  and  that  is  always  annoying,  even  if  one 
has  on  a  new  oilskin  reefer  and  is  going  to  have  the  delight  of  a 
wet  sail,  without  getting  wet. 

So  the  Reefer  said,  "  Isn't  it  time  to  start  ?  "  and  as  everyone 
made  a  move  for  the  boat,  she  caught  up  the  little  black  and 
white  figure  and  whispered  in  its  ea.r :  "  I^ever  mind,  you  go 
and  get  a  bone  and  be  a  nice  dog  and  this  afternoon  you  and 
Peter  and  I  will  go  out  in  the  skiff." 

She  put  Miss  Vixen  hastily  down,  as  the  stout  man  called 
"  All  aboard,"  and  got  on  board  the  Phantom  and  sat  way  up 
in  the  bow,  right  where  the  spray  would  dash  over  the  deck  and 
on  to  the  new  reefer,  which  was  great  fun. 

Miss  Vixen  sat  exactly  where  she  had  been  placed,  while  the 
76 


A  Morning's  Experience. 

boat  left  the  dock  and  moved  out  into  the  bay.  It  was  all  very 
nice  to  go  rowing  with  her  mistress  and  Sir  Peter,  but  she  had 
done  that  before,  and  she  wanted  to  go  in  a  boat  that  had  sails 
and  went  away  off  out  of  sight.  She  wanted  to  be  in  the  Phan- 
tom, with  the  Captain  and  the  Admiral  and  the  Pink  Sunbonnet 
and  the  Keeper  of—,  no,  she  didn't  care  much  about  going  with 
the  stout  man,  but  with  all  the  rest,  who  were  very  nice  to  her. 

Toto  came  walking  down  the  dock,  his  head  held  rather  higher 
than  usual.  He  had  important  news. 

"  The  ducks  are  over  in  the  long  grass,"  he  announced. 

"  They  may  stay  there,"  said  Miss  Vixen  rudely. 

Toto  opened  his  mouth.  Nowadays  Miss  Vixen  was  always 
nice  to  him  and  he  was  as  grateful  as  a  homeless  little  Dachs- 
hund, with  no  pretension  to  beauty  or  cleverness,  could  be.  So 
as  soon  as  he  had  discovered  the  ducks  down  in  the  salt  grass  by 
the  shore,  he  had  hurried  for  Miss  Vixen,  that  she  might  have 
the  fun  of  chasing  them.  He  had  backed  away  from  them  so 
softly  that  not  one  had  seen  nor  heard  him,  and  had  come  down 
to  the  dock  in  a  roundabout  fashion,  and,  "  they  may  stay 
there  "  was  all  he  had  got  for  his  trouble. 

77 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

Now  Toto  was  by  no  means  resentful,  but,  like  the  proverbial 
worm,  he  turned  at  last. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  agree  with  you.  I  shall  chase 
them."  Then  as  he  started  off :  "  It  will  be  quite  a  chase. 
They  are  a  long  way  from  home." 

Miss  Vixen  was  remorseful. 

"  Toto,"  she  called,  overtaking  him  as  he  trotted  away  with 
much  dignity ;  "  Toto,  I'm  not  really  cross,  at  least  not  with  you. 
I  should  love  to  chase  the  ducks." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  Toto,  "  I'll  show  you  where  they 
are." 

But  not  even  the  excitement  of  flying  along  after  six  fright- 
ened, quacking  ducks,  and  chasing  them  almost  to  the  door  of  the 
kitchen,  could"  satisfy  Miss  Vixen,  and  her  temper  was  none  of 
the  best  when  Mary  called  to  her. 

"  Come  in  here,"  she  said.  "  It's  too  hot  for  you  to  be  run- 
ning like  that." 

As  she  passed  Sinbad  and  his  master  on  the  porch,  the  old 
man  made  a  lunge  at  her  with  his  stick,  and  Sinbad  opened  his 
sleepy  eyes  and  said,  "  Why  can't  you  let  those  ducks  alone  ?" 

78 


A  Morning's  Experience. 

And  when  a  cruel-hearted  Mary  shut  her  up  in  her  mistress's 
bed-room,  she  bolted  the  two  peppermints  offered  by  her  jailer 
without  even  a  wag  of  the  tail. 

Left  alone,  she  wandered  about  the  room  disconsolately.  A 
hat  left  on  her  special  chair  by  the  window  annoyed  her.  A  big 
hat  it  was,  and  a  large  white  bird  covered  a  good  part  of  the 
crown  and  brim.  Miss  Vixen  pulled  at  the  hat  and  a  pin  stuck 
in  her  mouth.  She  jumped  back  with  a  yelp  of  rage  and  pain. 

"  I'll  teach  you !"  she  cried ;  and,  well,  that  poor  bird  looked  as 
if  it  had  been  moulting  when  finally  it  landed  under  the  bed  in  a 
dark  corner. 

This  little  episode  over,  Miss  Vixen  took  possession  of  her 
chair,  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 

"  Can't  you  get  out  ? "  called  a  voice. 

"  How  ?     Through  the  keyhole  ?"  asked  the  prisoner. 

Toto  sat  down  and  gazed  up  sympathetically  at  the  small  cross 
black  face. 

"  Sinbad's  asleep,"  he  announced. 

"  He  always  is,"  said  Miss  Vixen. 

79 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

"  Sir  Peter's  asleep."  Toto  was  not  versatile  as  a  conversa- 
tionalist. 

"  Let's  wake  him  up,"  suggested  Miss  Vixen.  "  He  ought 
not  to  sleep  so  much.  It  will  make  him  fat.  Come  on,  call  to- 
gether. „ 

"  Peter !"  she  screamed,  and  "  Peter !"  echoed  Toto,  only  a 
little  less  shrilly. 

"  He  never  stirred,"  said  Toto,  looking  toward  the  Maison  de 
Hen,  where  the  curled-up  body  of  Sir  Peter  could  be  seen. 

"  Peter !  SIR-R  PETER !"  again  called  Miss  Vixen,  in  the 
loudest  tones  she  could  muster. 

And,  "  Peter,  Sir-r  Peter,"  howled  the  Dachshund,  his  Roman 
nose  held  high  in  the  air. 

There  was  a  splash  as  of  water  thrown  from  a,  distance. 

"  Hark  yer  noise,"  sounded  the  cook's  voice,  "  yer  low-down 
Dutch  poodle!" 

Just  then  Miss  Vixen  heard  the  sound  of  Mary's  footsteps 
along  the  hall.  With  one  final  howl,  she  jumped  from  her  chair 
and  stood  close  to  the  door. 

So 


A  Morning's  Experience. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  making  such  a  noise  ?"  scolded  Mary, 
stepping  into  the  room. 

But  she  spoke  to  the  empty  air,  for  there  was  a  flash  of  a 
small  white  body  by  the  maid's  skirts  and  the  scratching  of  naila 
along  the  bare  hall  floor  and  down  the  uncarpeted  stairs,  a  black 
muzzle  pressed  against  the  screen  door.  Miss  Vixen  was  with 
Toto  and  they  were  both  making  for  the  shore. 

Once  more  free  and  in  the  open  air,  Miss  Vixen's  temper 
began  to  improve  and  her  inventive  mind  to  seek  for  amusement. 
A  flat-bottomed  boat  was  drawn  partly  out  of  the  water,  and  put- 
ting her  front  paws  upon  the  side  of  it,  she  surveyed  the  interior. 

"  There  are  things  moving  around  inside  there,"  she  an- 
nounced to  Toto. 

"  What  kind  of  things  ?"  asked  Toto. 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  are.  One  has  legs  and  is  trying 
to  walk  up  the  side  of  the  boat ;  and  the  other  is  little  and  flat  and 
flops  up  and  down." 

"  How  interesting,"  said  Toto,  and  he  came  and  looked  too. 

Little  Phil  and  his  crony  Elise  spied  the  dogs,  standing  on 
their  hind  legs  and  peering  into  the  boat.  Phil  howled  with 

81 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

glee.  "  Let's  give  the  dogs  a  sail,"  he  cried,  and  before  Elise 
could  object  he  had  bundled  them  both  into  the  boat. 

"  Push  it !"  he  commanded. 

"  But  they'll—"  began  Elise. 

"  Push  it,"  insisted  the  young  autocrat.  So  Elise  obediently 
pushed,  and  together  they  got  the  boat  into  the  water. 

But  Elise' s  efforts  were  accompanied  by  a  wail  that  would 
have  melted  a,  softer  heart  than  Phil's. 

"  They'll — they'll  eat  my  crab  and  my  fish !  "  she  finally 
managed  to  articulate. 

But  Phil  wasn't  interested  in  her  crab  or  her  fish.  There 
were  plenty  more  where  those  came  from  and  besides — he  lifted 
his  head  and  sniffed  the  air  like  a  young  war  horse. 

"  I  smell  cookies!"  he  shrieked;  and  away  he  ran. 

Elise  stood  still  for  a  moment,  watching  the  boat  drift  away 
from  the  shore.  Then  she  followed  Phil.  Better  two  cookies 
in  the  hands  than  a  crab  and  a  fish  in  a  boat. 

Miss  Vixen  and  Toto  had  been  so  surprised  at  their  sudden 
transition  from  land  to  water,  that  for  a  moment  they  stood 

82 


A  Morning's  Experience. 

silent  and  motionless.  Then  Toto  began  a  wild  scramble  for 
one  of  the  seats. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Miss  Vixen. 

"  That  funny  thing  "with  the  legs  tried  to  bite  me  with  one  of 
its  feet,"  he  cried,  as  with  a  desperate  effort  his  last  crooked  foot 
joined  the  others  in  safety. 

Then  Miss  Vixen  looked  about  her. 

"  How  very  unpleasant  something  smells,"  she  said. 

The  fish  leaped  into  the  air  just  then  and  nearly  hit  a  small 
black  nose. 

"  Good  gracious !  "  cried  Miss  Vixen,  and  she  hopped  precipi- 
tately onto  the  stern  seat. 

The  boat  with  its  queer  cargo  drifted  hither  and  thither  at  the 
mercy  of  a  shifting  wind.  The  fish  stopped  flopping  at  last 
and  lay  quite  still,  and  the  crab  got  under  the  seat  where  Toto 
was  and  no  longer  tried  to  climb  up  the  side  of  the  boat.  The 
Dachshund  curled  himself  up  and,  lulled  by  the  motion  of  the 
boat,  slept,  yes,  and  snored  a  little.  Even  Miss  Vixen  found 
her  eyes  closing,  and  the  old  boat  floated,  now  here,  now  there, 

83 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

but  always  farther  and  farther  away  from  the  White  Farm- 
house. 

The  shore  on  both  sides  seemed  deserted.  ISTot  a  sail  was  in 
sight  on  the  bay.  Overhead  the  blue  sky  was  flecked  with  lazy 
white  clouds  that  seemed  not  to  move  at  all.  The  little  dancing 
waves  alone  showed  signs  of  life,  as  the  fickle  wind  called  to 
them  from  land  and  sea.  All  over  the  nearly  land-locked  bay 
they  laughed  and  frolicked,  and  finding  in  the  solitary  rowboat 
a  fine  plaything,  they  tossed  it  back  and  forth,  and  this  way  and 
that,  and  growing  rough,  as  children  will  at  play,  they  rocked  it 
too  hard,  it  lurched  to  one  side — and  Miss  Vixen  awoke. 

She  looked  about  her  and  blinked  two  sleepy  eyes. 

"  Toto,  Toto,"  she  cried ;  "  see  where  we  are."  Toto  sat  up 
and  looked  about. 

"  My  goodness,"  he  said ;  "  where's  the  White  Farmhouse  ? 
Where's  Sir  Peter  and  the  Maison  de  Hen  ?"  and  he  looked  as  if 
he  were  going  to  cry. 

Miss  ^'rixen  strained  her  eyes  toward  the  shore. 

"  I  can  just  see  the  end  of  the  boathouse,"  she  said,  "  and 
we're  going  farther  away  every  minute.  We  must  swim  back." 
1 


A  Morning's  Experience. 

As  she  spoke  she  jumped  over  the  side  of  the  boat  and  struck 
out  for  the  shore.  A  doleful  howl  went  up  from  Toto. 

"  O,  Miss  Vixen,  I'm  afraid.  I  never  was  in  the  water  in  my 
life.  I  can't  do  that." 

"  O,  come  on,"  called  Miss  Vixen ;  "  It's  a  long  swim,  but  we 
can  do  it." 

"  O,  don't  leave  me,  don't  leave  me!"  wailed  the  little  dog 
piteously,  "  Get  back  into  the  boat." 

Miss  Vixen  turned.  "  Jump  out,  Toto,"  she  said  sternly. 
"  We've  got  to  swim  ashore.  As  soon  as  you  get  into  the  water 
you'll  find  you  can  go  all  right." 

But  poor  Toto  was  too  frightened.  Miss  Vixen's  small  white 
feet  looked  as  though  they  were  walking  through  the  water  on 
nothing,  and  he  was  sure  he  could  never  do  it.  In  vain  she 
reasoned  with  him. 

"  I  didn't  know  I  could  myself,"  she  explained,  "  till  someone 
dropped  me  off  the  dock  one  day.  When  you're  in  the  water  you 
just  have  to  swim.  Come  along,  Toto." 

Still  Toto  turned  around  and  around  on  the  seat  and  lifted  his 
feet  up  and  down.  "  I'll  get  in  there  and  push  you  out,"  said 

85 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

Miss  Vixen  out  of  patience.  But  this  was  more  easily  said  than 
done.  It  is  quite  an  acrobatic  feat  for  a  fox  terrier  to  climb 
out  of  the  water  and  up  the  side  of  a  boat.  Miss  Vixen  found 
that  she  could  not  do  it. 

"  It  looks  as  high  as  the  fence  of  the  Maison  de  Hen,"  she  said, 
swimming  close  under  the  side  of  the  boat. 

Toto  peered  over  at  her.  "  It  looks  an  awful  way  down,  too," 
he  said. 

"  Xow,  Toto,"  said  Miss  Vixen,  seriously,  "  I  can't  get  in,  but 
you  can  get  out.  I  can't  swim  around  here  all  day  even  to  keep 
you  company,  and  I  don't  know  where  that  miserable  boat  you're 
in  will  take  you  to.  But  if  you're  not  too  foolish,  you  will  just 
jump  over  here  with  me  and  we'll  go  slowly  and  comfortably  to 
shore." 

Toto  looked  at  her  appealingly.     Then  he  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  I  know  you're  right,"  he  said ;  "  and  of  course  I  can't  have 
you  tiring  yourself  all  out  swimming  after  me,  and  besides,  as 
you  say,  we  don't  know  where  I'm  going  anyway.  So — 

Here  he  gave  a  big  gulp  and,  with  a  courage  worthy  of  the 
86 


A  Morning's  Experience. 

biggest,  haughtiest  dog  that  ever  barked,  threw  himself  over  the 
side  of  the  boat. 

He  struck  the  water  with  his  eyes  shut  and  disappeared  for  a 
moment.  Miss  Vixen  was  by  his  side  when  his  head  came  above 
the  surface,  and  his  queer  little  legs  kept  time  to  hers  as  they 
paddled  away  from  the  boat. 

"  It  isn't  so  bad,"  said  Toto,  after  a  few  moments.  His  face 
was  resuming  it's  normal  expression. 

"  It  wouldn't  be,  but  I  don't  quite  know  just  which  way  to 
go,"  said  Miss  \7ixen. 

During  their  controversy,  the  boat  had  drifted  on  and  on,  and 
now  that  they  were  both  in  the  water  they  had  lost  sight  of  even 
the  boathouse.  The  shore  on  one  side  looked  horribly  like  the 
shore  on  the  other,  and  both  seemed  very  far  away. 

In  the  meantime  the  sails  of  the  noonday  fleet  came  into  view. 
First,  small  specks  in  the  distance ;  then  their  outlines  visible, 
and  after  that  the  boats  themselves,  three,  four,  a  dozen,  all  com- 
ing home  like  big  white  birds  from  their  flights  into  space. 

Up  in  the  bow  of  the  foremost  one  stood  the  Yellow  Reefer. 
87 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

"  There's  an  empty  boat,"  she  cried,  as  she  spied  the  old  blue 
rowboat,  shifting  about. 

"  Looks  like  our  boat,"  said  William. 

"  Come  about,"  said  the  Admiral. — He  was  always  saying 
"  come  about." — But  this  time  the  Captain  came  about,  and  so 
very  skillfully  that  with  an  oar  William  managed  to  pull  the 
boat  up  to  the  Phantom  and  tie  a  rope  to  her. 

"  The  Heavenly  Twins  must  have  been  enjoying  themselves," 
remarked  the  stout  man,  referring  to  little  Phil  and  Elise. 

"  You  don't  suppose  they  were  in  it,"  cried  the  Pink  Sunbon- 
net,  thoroughly  alarmed. 

"  O,  not  at  all,"  sighed  the  stout  man.  "  I've  prevented  the 
man  twin  from  pushing  that  boat  off  no  less  than  seven  times  this 
last  week.  I  wasn't  there  this  time,  that's  all,"  and  he  sighed 
again  and  examined  the  depth  of  the  center-board  in  his  most 
official  manner. 

Just  then  a  sudden  cry  came  from  the  bow  of  the  boat. 

"  Look,  look !  "  called  the  Yellow  Keef  er ;  "  Vixen !  Vixen 
—and— and  Toto,  Toto !  " 

88 


"  What's  the  matter  I"  asked  the  Pink  Sunbonnet  rather  im- 
patiently. She  hated  to  be  sighed  at  by  the  stout  man. 

But  all  the  Reefer  would  say  was,  "  Vixen !  Get  her,  get 
her." 

Finally  even  the  Captain  and  the  Admiral  were  convinced 
that  something  was  the  matter  and  took  their  attention  from  the 
exaot  position  of  the  sail,  and  the  calculation  of  the  time  to  come 
about,  and  realized  that  they  were  almost  running  down  two 
small  dogs,  who  were  swimming  side  by  side,  with  their  noses 
pointed  toward  shore. 

A  very  brilliant  manoeuvre  was  accomplished  by  the  Captain ; 
the  Admiral  gave  many  unheeded  orders,  and  even  the  Keeper 
of  the  Sacred  Center-board  stood  ready  to  assist  in  any  way; 
and  at  last  a  weary,  dripping  Toto  and  a  dripping,  weary  Miss 
Vixen  were  lifted  on  board,  and  a  pair  of  yellow  arms  received 
them  and  hugged  them  impartially. 

Then  the  good  ship  Phantom  headed  straight  for  the  dock, 
and  a  fair  wind  sent  her  along  so  fast  that  she  beat  all  the  other 
boats  in,  and  the  Admiral  wasn't  angry  at  the  delay,  and  the 

89 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

Captain  won  a  small  wager  from  the  Captain  of  the  Mollie  Dar- 
ling, which  came  in  just  a  nose  behind. 

"  All  we  wanted,"  said  the  stout  man  pleasantly,  as  they 
neared  the  dock ;  "all  we  wanted  was  to  see  Sir  Peter  and  the 
Maison  de  Hen  float  along;  then  we  could  have  had  the  whole 
happy  family  on  board." 

The  Yellow  Reefer  and  the  Pink  Sunbonnet  said  nothing,  but 
Miss  Vixen  was  hugged  a  bit  closer  and  the  Pink  Sunbonnet 
patted  Toto  and  smiled  viciously  as  the  Keeper  of  the  Sacred 
Center-board  let  go  the  rope  he  held,  too  soon  and  the  Phantom 
almost  came  to  a  stop. 

But  William  was  ready  with  his  oar,  and  with  a  mighty  push 
they  readied  the  landing.  The  Admiral  said  nothing,  neither 
did  the  Captain,  which  was  very  heroic  of  them.  And  the 
Keeper  of  the  Sacred  Center-board  said  nothing,  which  shows 
just  how  embarrassed  he  must  have  been  at  his  mistake. 

But  he  lifted  Miss  Vixen  carefully  out  on  to  the  dock,  and 
even  reached  for  Toto,  too,  and  pulled  one  of  his  ears  gently,  and 
everybody  knew  that,  like  a  lot  of  dogs  and  people,  the  stout 
man's  bark  was  worse  than  his  bite. 

90 


NOBLESSE 
OBLIGE 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE 

was  a  case  of  noblesse  oblige,"  said  Sir  Peter. 

"  All  the  same  it  was  mighty  nice  of  him,"  said  Miss 
Vixen.     "  You  see  I  had  really  done  just  as  much  as 
he  had,  and  yet  he  took  all  the  blame  and  got  the  whipping." 

"  Noblesse  oblige,"  went  on  Sir  Peter,  "  is  something  that 
forbids  a  well-bred  dog  to  act  like  a  cur.  Now  while  it  seems 
very  nice  of  Lord  Roberts  to  have  protected  you  as  he  did,  there 
was  really  nothing  else  for  him  to  do.  I  don't  know  the  whole 
circumstance,  but  he  is  well-bred,  I  think  you  said  ? " 

"  O  yes,  he  has  a  blue  ribbon.  Though  what  good  it  does  him 
I  can't  see,  for  his  mistress  never  lets  him  wear  it.  I've  always 
felt  so  mean  about  that  whipping,"  she  added,  plaintively. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Vixen,  don't  let  it  worry  you.  Lord  Roberts 
would  have  been  far  more  pained  at  your  punishment  than  at 
any  whipping  of  his  own.  But  how  did  it  all  happen  ?  Do  you 
mind  telling  me  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  It  was  in  the  spring,  several  months  ago.  I 
try  not  to  think  of  it  very  often ;  I'm  always  so  sorry  about  it. 

93 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

But  your  affair  with  Sinbad  and  the  state  of  mind  you  were  in 
till  you  were  able  to  apologize  to  him,  reminded  me  of  the  way 
I  felt  for  weeks  after  I  left  Boston.  I  am  so  afraid  I  shall 
never  see  Bobs  again  and  never  be  able  to  tell  him  how  sorry  I 
am  I  let  him  be  whipped,  when  I  was  just  as  much  to  blame 
as  he  was.  It  was  my  home,  too,  and  my  Aunt  Janet's  wild- 
cat. That  makes  it  all  the  worse." 

"  It  was  in  Boston,  I  think  you  said,"  prompted  Sir  Peter. 

"  Yes.  My  mistress  and  Aunt  Janet  and  I  had  the  nicest 
rooms,  all  on  one  floor.  There  was  a  long  hall  without  any  car- 
pet, a  fine  place  to  run ;  you  could  slide  the  last  part  of  the  way 
and  your  toes  scratched  lovely.  Well,  Lord  Roberts  called  one 
morning.  His  mistress  had  been  away  all  winter  and  he  had 
been  down  in  some  kennels;  was  in  awfully  bad  form;  got  all 
wheezy  after  he'd  run  a  bit,  you  know." 

"  I'll  be  like  that  when  I  get  out  of  the  Maison  de  Hen,"  said 
Sir  Peter.  "  Then  they'll  be  sorry  they  don't  let  me  run  more." 

"  Well,  Bobs  was  pretty  bad.  He  could  hardly  get  his  breath, 
after  we'd  been  up  and  down  the  hall  about  six  times.  We 
made  quite  a  noise,  too,  and  so  my  mistress  threw  my  slipper  and 

94 


Noblesse  Oblige. 

a  golf  ball  into  Aunt  Janet's  room  and  said :  (  There,  play  with 
thos?  and  let  us  hear  ourselves  talk/  and  then  she  shut  the  door. 
We  talked  quietly  for  awhile  till  Bobs  got  his  breath,  and  then 
we  looked  out  of  the  window  and  called  down  to  Woolly,  who  was 
going  by — a  lazy  old  thing,  Peter,  reminds  me  of  Sinbad,  only 
rustier  looking." 

"  O,  Sinbad's  all  right,"  said  Sir  Peter.  Sinbad  had  no  firmer 
friend  than  Sir  Peter,  nowadays. 

"  Sinbad  is  no  especial  friend  of  mine,  and  he  is  rusty,"  said 
Miss  Vixen  decidedly.  She  hated  to  be  contradicted. 

"  It  never  would  have  happened,"  she  went  on,  "  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  that  wildcat  of  Aunt  Janet's.  It  looked  alive,  but  it 
wasn't.  It  was  stuffed,  I  think  they  called  it.  But  anyway,  it 
was  a  big,  big  cat  with  great  yellow  eyes  and  it  looked  as  if  it 
wanted  to  spit  at  you  and  scratch  you,  but  it  couldn't. 

"A  baby  wildcat,  Aunt  Janet  called  it,  and  goodness  only 
knows  what  size  the  mother  cat  must  have  been,  for  the  baby 
was  as  big  as  Bobs  and  me  put  together.  It  stood  over  by  the 
fire-place,  and  after  we  had  played  everything  we  could  think 

95 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

of,  I  said  '  Let's  play  hunting !  Not  slipper  nor  ball,  but  real 
hunting.' 

"  'All  right,'  Bobs  said ;  '  here's  just  the  thing  to  hunt.'  And 
he  pulled  at  the  cat. 

"  Now  I  knew  I  ought  not  to  touch  that  wildcat.  But  Bobs 
was  company,  and  I  wanted  to  play  '  hunting,'  and  the  cat  just 
stood  there  at  one  side  of  the  fire-place  as  if  it  was  waiting  for 
some  one  to  hunt  it.  And  so  I  said  nothing  against  it.  We  push- 
ed it  way  up  in  a  corner  and  then  we  planned  the  attack.  Lord 
Roberts  was  to  come  out  from  behind  the  couch  and  I  was  to 
jump  from  under  the  steamer  chair  (after  we  had  challenged 
him,  of  course),  and  then  together  we  were  to  fall  upon  the  foe." 

"  How  very  exciting,"  remarked  Sir  Peter.  "  I  wish  I  could 
have  been  there." 

"  It  was  great !  We  stalked  till  we  got  almost  on  him  and 
then  with  a  leap  we  were  at  his  throat.  It  was  a  nice,  big 
throat  and  we  both  had  plenty  of  room.  We  shook  him  and 
shook  him,  and  he  moved  quite  a  bit  and  that  made  it  seem  more 
real.  Then  we  made  believe  he  was  creeping  up  on  us  and  we 
retreated  to  our  shelters  again.  Then  we  attacked  him  once 

96 


Noblesse  Oblige. 

more.  This  time  we  must  have  got  quite  excited,  because  I  re- 
member that  we  knocked  him  over  on  his  side  and  I  was  biting 
his  ear  in  a  ferocious  way,  and  all  at  once  I  stopped  to  get  a 
drink  of  water.  Bobs,  who  was  trying  to  pull  him  by  the  tail, 
sprang  at  the  ear  I  had  just  left,  and  when  I  returned  to  the 
attack,  there  was  the  ear  on  the  floor. 

"  O,  it  was  a  horrid  moment.  I  remembered  exactly  what 
Aunt  Janet  had  said  when  the  wildcat  came.  '  If  that  Vixen- 
girl  ever  chases  this  cat — '  and  then  she  looked  as  if  she'd  a  good 
mind  to  whip  me  then  and  there  just  in  case. 

"  Bobs,  by  that  time,  was  very  wheezy  and  had  lain  down  for 
a  rest. 

"  '  Bobs,'  said  I — and  I  know  my  voice  shook,  '  there's  one  of 
his  ears.' 

"  '  I  should  say  so,'  said  Bobs,  '  I  got  it  off  at  last.  I  thought 
it  would  never  come.' 

"  He  seemed  so  pleased  that  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  remind  him 
how  bad  we'd  been  or  that  I'd  really  started  the  ear  myself. 

"  Just  then  the  door  opened  and  Lord  Robert's  mistress  and 
97 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

mine  and  Aunt  Janet  all  came  in.     Aunt  Janet  was  saying: 
*  Haven't  they  been  good  ? '     And  then  she  saw  the  wildcat. 

"  1 1  knew  it/  she  said ;  '  I  knew  she'd  do  it  some  day/  and 
her  voice  sounded  like  a  whip  lash  before  it  hits  you. 

"  Bobs  looked  from  Aunt  Janet  to  me  and  then  at  the  wildcat. 
He  came  over  to  me. 

"  l  Do  as  I  say/  he  said  in  a  low  tone.  {  Act  as  if  nothing 
had  happened,  no  matter  what  I  do.'  Then  he  walked  over  to 
his  mistress,  with  his  head  down,  and  his  tail,  too,  what  there 
was  of  it. 

"  '  Why,  Bobs !'  she  said,  '  You  never  chew  things.  You  stop- 
ped that  long  ago.' 

"  c  It  couldn't  have  been  Vixen/  said  my  mistress,  '  for  Janet 
has  had  that  beast  for  two  months  and  she's  never  touched  it.' 

"  I  started  to  let  her  know  it  was  my  fault  too,  but  Lord 
Roberts  said :  '  You  promised.  Look  pleasant !  Wag  yonr  tail 
and  hold  your  head  up  or  I'll  never  speak  to  you  again. ' 

"  Even  then  I  didn't  think  they'd  whip  him — he  being  a 
guest.  But  his  mistress  said:  'What?  Growling,  Bobs? 
What  a  bad  dog !  I  hope  they've  not  spoiled  your  temper  dov/n 

98 


Noblesse  Oblige. 

at  the  kennels.  Janet,'  she  said,  '  It's  a  shame.  He  certainly 
deserves  a  whipping.' 

"  (  He  certainly  does,'  said  Aunt  Janet,  '  and  if  it  had  been 
Vixen,  she'd  have  one,  if  I  had  to  whip  her  myself. 

"  '  Well/  said  Bobs'  mistress,  *  I  can't  do  it  But  here's  his 
leader.'  So  Aunt  Janet  took  the  lash  and  said,  '  Thank  good- 
ness I'm  not  so  soft-hearted,'  and  down  came  that  wretched 
leather  strap  on  poor  Lord  Roberts. 

"  I  couldn't  stand  it  I  began  to  whine  and  my  head  and  tail 
went  down,  but  Bobs  fairly  roared  at  me. 

"  '  Brace  up !  Vixen,  do  you  hear  what  I  say  ? '  It  made  me 
jump  and  almost  scared  Aunt  Janet.  She  said, t  Once  is  enough, 
I  guess,'  and  my  mistress  picked  me  up,  and  said,  '  Good  gra- 
cious, how  cross  he  looks !' 

"  Bobs'  mistress  said  she  wished  she  had  kept  him  with  her 
that  winter;  she  was  afraid  his  disposition  was  spoiled. 

"  Then  they  picked  the  wildcat  up  and  Aunt  Janet  looked 
pleasanter.  She  said  she  thought  she  could  sew  the  ear  on,  and 
that  after  he  was  brushed  and  combed  he'd  look  all  right. 

"  1 1  wouldn't  have  been  so  cross  about  it,'  she  said,  '  only  I 

99 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

shot  the  little  beast  myself.  I  was  out  on  my  brother's  ranch 
last  year/ 

"  The  others  said  they  didn't  blame  her ;  how  was  her  brother  ? 
and  they  all  began  to  talk  together  and  dragged  poor  Bobs  by 
his  leader  along  with  them  to  the  door. 

"  I  didn't  have  a  chance  to  tell  him  how  I  felt  about  it,  for 
every  time  I  started  to  speak,  my  mistress  would  say,  '  Stop  that 
noise.  He  isn't  going  to  hurt  you. ' 

"  And  I've  never  seen  him  since,"  concluded  Miss  Vixen, 
"  but  I've  always  wondered  what  he  thought  of  me." 

u  You'll  find  it  will  come  out  all  right,"  said  Sir  Peter,  com- 
fortingly. "  Just  think  what  a  fix  I  was  in  about  Sinbad.  And 
I  was  much  more  in  the  wrong  than  you.  Yet  I  had  my  chance, 
thanks  to  you.  I've  noticed  that  one  almost  always  gets  a 
chance,  if  he  waits  long  enough." 

"  I  hope  I  get  mine,"  said  Miss  Vixen,  with  a  sigh,  "  but  it 
doesn't  look  much  like  it  at  present.  Well,  Peter,  I'll  see  you 
again  later.  I'm  going  with  my  mistress  to  the  train.  She's 
going  to  meet  some  friends.  I  haven't  heard  her  say  who  they 
are.  Anyway,  I  suppose  they'll  play  golf  or  sail  all  day  to-mor- 


row  and  I'll  be  left  at  home."  And  in  an  unusually  depressed 
frame  of  mind  Miss  Vixen  left  the  Maison  de  Hen  and  walked 
back  to  the  porch. 

"  I  hope  they'll  get  along  all  right,"  Miss  Vixen's  mistress 
had  just  said :  "  The  last  time  they  were  together,  Bobs  was 
very  cross." 

"  Come  along,"  she  called  to  Miss  Vixen ;  "  Huiry  up ;  you 
walk  like  a  little  old  lady." 

About  two  hours  later,  Miss  Vixen  came  up  to  the  Maison 
de  Hen.  She  was  not  alone.  A  small  Boston  terrier  was  by 
her  side.  His  black  face  was  very  flat,  his  front  legs  very 
bowed  and  his  brindle  body  very  sleek. 

"  Sir  Peter,"  said  Miss  Vixen,  "  I  want  you  to  meet  Lord 
Eoberts." 

"  Glad  to  know  you,  Lord  Koberts,"  said  Sir  Peter.  "  Sorry 
I  can't  ask  you  in.  There's  something  the  matter  with  the 
gate,"  and  he  smiled,  a  sad  smile. 

"  Been  there  myself,  old  man,"  said  Lord  Roberts.  "  Down 
in  kennels  all  last  winter.  Beastly  place." 

101 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

"We're  going  for  a  walk,  Peter,"  explained  Miss  Yixen, 
:'  Lord  Roberts  has  just  come  over  for  a  few  days  and  I  have 
a  lot  to  say  to  him."  She  looked  significantly  at  Sir  Peter. 
"  We'll  be  back  in  time  for  your  exercise  hour." 

"  So  long,"  said  Lord  Roberts. 

"  Good  luck."  said  Sir  Peter. 


ONE 

TOUCH 

OF 

NATURE 


103 


ONE  TOUCH  OF  NATURE 

T    seems    a   long   time,"    said    the    old 
Dachshund. 

Toto  looked  at  his  mother  anxiously. 
Her  voice  sounded  feeble,  very  feeble, 
and  her  eyes  had  a  pitiful  way  of  wan- 
dering about,  as  if  in  search  of  some 
familiar  object. 

The  moon  looked  down  into  the  small 
garden.  Such  a  sweet  old-fashioned 
garden,  with  its  odor  of  heliotrope  and  sweet  verbena ;  its  rows  of 
tall  hollyhocks,  and  squares  and  circles  of  pink  and  white  asters. 
The  paths  were  a  bit  overgrown  with  weeds,  though  ;  the  aster 
beds  needed  thinning  and  some  of  the  hollyhocks  had  bent  over 
almost  to  the  ground.  The  first  signs  of  neglect  were  showing  in 
the  little  lovely  and  well-loved  garden;  for  the  brown  withered 
fingers,  so  skillful  to  pull  away  useless  leaves  and  branches,  to 
cuddle  and  tend  a  tired  and  drooping  blossom,  were  tired  and 
helpless  themselves  now.  The  faded,  checked  sunbonnet  that 

105 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

Madchen  daily  watched  bending  over  the  posy  beds  was  hang- 
ing on  a  nail  in  the  kitchen,  and  the  kind  old  face  that  peered 
ont  from  tinder  the  limp  frill  was  grey  against  its  snowy  pillow. 

Toto  knew,  for  he  had  crept  into  the  house  only  an  hour  before 
and  had  fonnd  everything  strangely  stilL  He  had  stood  by  the 
half  open  door  of  the  bedroom  whose  window  his  mother  watched 
so  closely  and  had  seen  the  bed  with  its  four  tall  posts  and  chintz 
canopy;  and  propped  high  among  the  pillows  lay  the  one  for 
whom  old  Madchen  watched  and  waited.  So  familiar  and  yet 
go  strange  was  the  face,  that  he  felt  a  sense  of  coming  eviL 
Something  unknown  and  dreaded  was  about  him.  A  neighbor 
sat  by  the  side  of  the  bed  and  moved  a  palm  leaf  fan  to,  and  fro 
and  there  was  no  sound  in  the  room  except  that  of  troubled 
breathing. 

Toto  crept  away  as  silently  as  he  had  entered  and  out  into 
the  moonlit  garden  to  the  small  dog-house  where  his  mother 
lived. 

"Do  you  think  sheTl  be  out  soon?"  she  asked,  and  Toto 
answered,  "  It's  too  late  now,  I  think,"  and  then  a  chill  crept 

106 


One  Touch  of  Nature. 

over  him  and  his  words  seemed  to  mean  more*  than  he  had  in- 
tended. 

Mlidchen  said  no  more  then.  She  dozed  through  the  best  part 
of  an  hour,  hut  always  when  she  opened  her  eyes  it  was  to  look 
anxiously  about  the  garden  as  if  in  search  of  something,  and  then 
to  rest  her  head  on  her  paws  and  stare  at  the  lighted  window  till 
her  weary  eyes  closed  again. 

The  cool  wind  of  a  September  night  blew  in  from  the  bay  and 
a  bed  of  heliotrope  sent  up  from  a  dark  corner  a,  breath  of  sweet 
perfume.  The  rose  bush  on  the  trellis  by  the-  side  door  rustled 
all  its  leaves  in  a  soft  message.  A  sleepy  bird  chirped  to  its 
mate  in  the  nest  in  the  old  evergreen  tree.  There  was  a  low, 
sad  little  trill  in  reply  and  silence  again. 

Toto's  brown  eyes  had  not  closed.  He  heard  the  call  of  the 
birds,  he  listened  to  the  rustle  of  the  leaves,  he  felt  the  cool  wind 
off  the  bay  and  he  snielled  the  heavy  scent  of  the  heliotrope.  He 
waited,  but  for  what  he  could  not  have  told.  When  he  watched 
the  window  of  the  room  where  he  had  stood  a  short  time  be- 
fore, he  shivered  and  looked  fearfully  around  the  garden. 

The  familiar  paths  looked  strange  in  the  moonlight  The  old- 
107 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

fashioned,  box-bordered  path  that  led  down  to  the  gate  seemed 
wider  and  longer  than  he  had  ever  known  it;  and  the  lilac 
bushes  had  grown  enormously  tall  and  threatening.  The  shadow 
of  his  mother's  house  concealed  something  unknown  and  terrify- 
ing, and  Hadchen  herself,  lying  there,  seemed  unreal  and  un- 
alive.  Fear — black,  unreasoning  fear,  intangible  but  over- 
powering, held  the  little  dog  in  a  close  grip.  He  rose,  shudder- 
ing, with  a  low  whine. 

At  that  moment,  a  shadow  came  across  the  window  shade,  then 
a  sound  of  voices  in  a  confused  murmur  and  someone  struck  a 
light  in  the  kitchen.  Toto  looked  at  his  mother.  She  had  been 
a  little  deaf  for  years  and  he  could  not  think  she  had  heard 
the  sounds.  But  her  head  was  raised,  and  tense,  alert,  the  old 
dog  was  watching  the  lighted  window.  Suddenly  the  shade  was 
pushed  up  and  the  sash  thrown  open.  There  was  absolute  silence 
for  a  moment.  Madchen  rose  to  her  feet.  Weakness,  weariness, 
pain — all  were  gone.  Like  a  young  dog  she  moved  toward  die 
window,  every  nerve  alive,  every  sense  keen  and  quickened. 
She  stopped  suddenly.  There  was  a  low  sound  from  the  room. 
1 08 


One  Touch  of  Nature. 

Madchen' s  muzzle  lifted,  her  bead  was  thrown  back  and  a  howl, 
long  and  mournful,  sounded  far  into  the  night. 

Toto  trembled.  The  evil  had  come.  What  it  was,  even  then, 
he  did  not  know,  but  it  was  there. 

Madchen  crouched  down  on  the  ground,  her  head  on  her  paws, 
and  with  a  deep  sigh  lay  motionless.  Toto  crept  toward  bar. 

"  Mutter"  he  said  softly,  "  Mutterchen."  But  Madchen  did 
not  answer  and  Toto  knew  that  she  would  never  answer. 

The  moonlight  was  still  white  on  the  box-bordered  path;  the 
lilac  bushes  stood  tall  and  grim  at  the  front  gate;  the  bed  of 
heliotrope  sent  its  sweet  perfume  out  on  the  soft  night  air.  At 
the  window  appeared  a  strange  face,  that  of  the  niece  who  had 
arrived  the  day  before ;  the  woman  who  had  said,  "  Two  dogs — 
well,  what  on  earth — "  "  Two  dogs — "  well,  there  was  only  one 
dog  now ;  one  poor  little  dog,  grieving,  bewildered,  alone. 

"  They  are  good  to  thee  at  the  White  Farm  ? "  his  mother 
had  asked  one  day.  The  White  Farmhouse !  Sir  Peter,  Miss 
Vixen,  old  Sinbad — O,  to  be  near  them!  To  let  them  know 
that  Madchen  was  dead ;  to  let  them  know  this  that  had  come  to 
him ;  to  get  to  them  and  feel  the  love  and  sympathy  of  his  kind, 

109 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

The  need  was  overpowering.  The  strange  face  could  be  seen 
just  inside  the  window  and  the  unfamiliar  voice  sounded  on 
his  ears.  All.  was  changed. 

He  went  slowly  down  to  the  gate,  then  turned  and  looked 
back. 

There  was  the*  familiar  cottage,  the  well-known  garden,  trees 
and  flower  beds;  his  mother's  house  and  his  mother  lying  so 
quietly  under  the  open  window.  Everything  the  same,  yet  not 
the  same.  That  was  not  Madchen.  Madchen  had  left  him. 
That  was  not  the  house-mother  who  lay  within  the  cottage. 
No,  it  was  not  home.  And  Toto  turned  away  from  it  all, 
walked  slowly  out  into  the  road  and  started  for  the  White  Farm- 
house. 

Sinbad  lay  in  the  driveway,  just  inside  the  gate — a  most 
objectionable  place  for  a  big  black  dog  to  lie,  especially  on  a 
dark  night.  He  had  caused  the  downfall  of  many  of  the  dwell- 
ers at  the  White  Farmhouse,  for  his  resting  place  was  usually 
midway  between  the  house  and  the  cottage.  On  several  occa- 
sions he  had  been  stumbled  over,  and  though  he  had  never  retfll- 


One  Touch  of  Nature. 

iated,  indeed,  had  never  noticed  the  blunderer  at  all,  beyond 
a  heavy  grunt  when  it  happened  to  be  the  stout  man  who  fell, 
still  it  was  not  a  good  place  for  Sinbad  to  sleep.  He  had  chosen 
it  because  it  was  near  his  old  master's  room  and  he  fancied  he 
could  hear  every  sound  coming  from  there. 

Sir  Peter  lay  at  the  door  of  the  Maison  de  Hen,  his  big  head 
hanging  out  till  his  jaws  nearly  touched  the  ground,  and  his 
paws  over  the  sill.  He  was  sleeping  very  poorly  that  night. 
There  was  a  big  bar  of  moonlight  shining  right  across  his  eyes, 
but  he  was  obstinate  and  would  not  move.  Only  he  shut  his 
eyes  very  tight  and  that  is  not  at  all  conducive  to  restful  sleep. 
So  he  woke  every  now  and  then  and  scowled  through  the  bar 
of  moonlight  and  wished  it  would  go  away. 

Upstairs,  at  the  foot  of  a  little  white  bed,  Miss  Vixen  lay  on 
her  side  with  her  head  toward  the  window.  Once  in  a  while  she 
whined  and  her  paws  moved  as  if  she  were  running  and  once 
she  woke  up  with  a  soft  bark  of  inquiry.  Then  she  felt  a  hand 
shake  her  gently  and  the  contradictory  command  to  "  Wake  up 
and  go  to  sleep  "  came  to  her  ears,  in  a  sleepy  voice. 

She  rose,  stretched  herself  and  jumped  noiselessly  from  the 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

bed  and  up  on  a  chair  by  the  window.  Just  then  Sir  Peter 
opened  his  eyes  crossly  for  the  fiftieth  time  and  turning  caught 
sight  of  the  little  white  figure  above  him. 

"  You  up  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It's  awfully  hard  to  sleep,"  called  down  Miss  Vixen  softly. 

"  It's  this  moon,  I  believe,"  returned  Sir  Peter.  "  It  gets  in 
my  eyes  all  the  time.  I  haven't  slept  a  wink." 

"  Don't  speak  so  loud.    You'll  wake  everybody  up." 

"  Who  do  I  hear  talking  ?  "  she  continued,  poking  her  black 
head  out  of  the  window. 

Sir  Peter  raised  his  ears  and  looked  about. 

"  It  sounds  like  Sinbad,"  he  said.  Then  he  walked  out  to  the 
wire  gate  of  his  yard. 

"  It  is  Sinbad,"  he  announced.  "  Why,  yes,  it's  Sinbad  and 
Toto.  What's  Toto  doing  up  here  at  this  time  of  night  ?  " 

Miss  Vixen  put  her  front  paws  on  the  window  ledge  and 
leaned  far  out. 

"  Something  must  have  happened,"  she  said. 

Sinbad  and  Toto  stood  in  the  driveway  with  their  heads  to- 


One  Touch  of  Nature. 

gether.  Then  Toto  sank  wearily  down  on  the  ground.  Sinbad 
sat  down  and  looked  at  him  silently. 

"  Let's  go  up  and  talk  to  Peter,"  he  said  finally,  "  I  see  he's 
up." 

Toto  dragged  himself  across  the  driveway  and  over  the  moon- 
lit grass  to  where  Sir  Peter  stood.  Sinbad  slowly  followed. 
Toto  said  nothing,  but  fixed  his  sad  brown  eyes  on  Peter's  face 
and  lay  down  again  quietly. 

Sinbad  tried  to  explain. 

"  He  wanted  to  see  us.  You  see  it  just  happened.  His 
mother — the  old  lady — both." 

But  there  was  no  need  of  further  words.     Sir  Peter  knew. 

"  Good  old  Toto,"  he  said ;  "  Came  right  to  your  friends, 
didn't  you  ?  Tired  all  out,  aren't  you  ?  Given  him  some  water, 
Sinbad  ?  Of  course  not.  Haven't  had  time,  have  you  ?  Here, 
look  here,  take  some  out  of  Miss  Vixen's  dish  right  outside  there. 
Nothing  like  a  good  drink  of  water  to  pull  a  chap  together. 
That's  right.  That's  right,"  as  Toto  courageously  rose  and 
drank  long  and  thirstily  from  the  big  white  dish.  Sir  Peter 
113 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

looked  at  the  little  fellow  and  then  at  Sinbad ;  then  he  choked  a 
little,  but  mrned  it  off  into  a  sneeze. 

"  He's  come  a  long  way,"  said  Sinbad  sympathetically.  "  A 
trip  like  that  at  night  takes  it  out  of  a  fellow." 

"  That's  so.     That's  so,"  agreed  Sir  Peter. 

Toto  looked  at  them  both.  A  new  light  had  come  into  his 
eyes,  and  new  strength  into  the  little  tired  crooked  legs. 

"  I  just  wanted  a  word  with  you,"  he  said.  "  It  seemed  so 
strange.  She  didn't  speak  nor  answer  me,  you  see.  It  was 
rather  dreadful  there  in  the  garden." 

"  Just  so,"  said  Sinbad.     "  Just  the  right  thing  to  do." 

"  I'm  going  back  now,"  continued  Toto.  "  I  want  to  stay 
by  her—" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  interrupted  Sinbad  kindly.  "  Of  course  you 
want  to.  I'll  go  back  with  you,  through  the  woods,  anyway." 

Toto  protested :  "  It's  damp  in  the  woods  and  your  rheu- 
matism— ' 

"  O,  that's  all  right,"  said  Sinbad.  "  I  guess  a  little  walk 
through  the  woods  won't  hurt  me." 

"  I'd  go  too,  if  I  could,"  said  Sir  Peter,  "  only  they  always 
114 


One  Touch  of  Nature. 

lock  that  wretched  gate.  But  I'll  see  you  to-morrow.  And 
I  say,  Toto,  it's  better  she  should  go  with  the  old  lady.  They'd 
miss  each  other  awfully,  you  know." 

"  Sure,"  said  Sinbad. 

"  I've  thought  of  that,"  said  Toto,  bravely. 

As  they  passed  Miss  Vixen's  window,  there  was  a  little  whine 
of  sympathy  and  Toto  looked  up  for  a  moment.  Neither  said 
anything,  but  Toto  lifted  his  head  with  a  new  sense  of  comfort 
and  courage  as  he  and  Sinbad  trotted  down  the  driveway 
together. 

As  Sinbad  passed  his  master's  room,  he  paused  a  moment, 
listening.  All  was  well.  He  went  on  again,  a  little  nearer  hia 
small  companion,  and  side  by  side  they  started  off  through  the 
soft  sweet  moonlight. 

"  I  couldn't  say  a  word,'  said  Miss  \7ixen  to  Sir  Peter. 

"  I  couldn't  say  much.  Just  offered  him  a  drink  out  of  your 
dish  of  water  and  got  him  a  bit  braced  up.  Sinbad  is  going  back 
with  him,  at  least  part  of  the  way." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that.    It  must  be  lonely  through  the  woods.   Do 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

you  suppose  he'll  come  and  live  with  us  now  ?  I  wish  he  would," 
she  added. 

"  He  must.  We'll  have  to  talk  it  over  to-morrow,  you  and 
Sinbad  and  I.  Better  go  to  sleep  now,"  he  suggested.  "  I'm  go- 
ing to  wait  up  for  Sinbad." 

"  All  right,"  said  Miss  Vixen.  "  Good  night,  Peter.  Don't 
take  cold.  I  heard  you  sneeze  a  while  ago." 

"  O,  that's  nothing,"  said  Sir  Peter  hastily.     "Good  night." 

Miss  Vixen  jumped  up  on  the  white  bed  again  and  cuddled 
close  to  the  owner  of  the  sleepy  voice.  A  hand,  the  one  that  had 
shaken  her  before,  reached  out  unconsciously  and  was  laid  on  the 
small,  black  head  and  silky  ears.  And  Miss  Vixen,  with  a  big 
sigh,  went  quietly  to  sleep. 


116 


A 

YELLOW 
DOG 


117 


A  YELLOW  DOG 

was  a  hot  afternoon  in  September  and  the  noises  of  the 
street  came  disagreeably  through  the  open   windows. 
The  strong  odor  of  disinfectants  filled  the  air.      Miss 
Vixen  felt  almost  ilL 

It  was  a  sorry  change  for  her  and  she  was  most  unhappy. 
From  a  delightful  visit  in  the  country,  where  there  was  every 
attraction  for  a  fox  terrier  of  tender  years  and  investigating 
tendencies,  to  a  little  cell  in  the  veterinary  hospital!  It  was 
cruel,  inhuman,,  and  Miss  Vixen  walked  for  the  hundredth 
time  that  day  around  her  tiny  apartment  and  then  sat  down, 
with  her  head  hanging  in  the  dejected  attitude  of  a  prisoner 
immured  for  life. 

And  all  this  because  her  mistress  had  seen  fit  to  accept  an  in- 
vitation to  visit  for  a  few  days  at  a  place  where  it  was  plainly 
understood  that  dogs  were  unwelcome. 

It  was  clearly  selfish  on  her  mistress's  part;  wholly  and  ut- 
terly selfish,  and  besides  that,  what  sense  was  there  in  leaving 
one  place  in  the  country,  which  was  most  delightful,  for  an- 

119 


T«le»  of  a  Terrier. 

other  which  couldn't  possibly  be  nicer ;  especially,  when  one  had 
to  leave  behind  a  dear  little  dog,  who  loved  her  mistress  so  much, 
bat  whose  mistress  evidently  did  not  return  that  affection. 

Here  little  Hiss  Vixen  was  almost  moved  to  tears  by  the 
memory  of  her  wrongs  and  the  notes  of  a  street  piano  playing 
"My  Lady  Lu."  She  had  heard  her  mistress  hum  it  many 
times.  After  a  few  minutes  the  street  piano  departed  and  she 
fell  into  a  doze. 

There  was  a  sound  of  heavy  wheels  which  stopped  in  front  of 
the  hospital,  and  Miss  Vixen  was  awakened  by  one  of  the  doc- 
tors tramping  up  the  bare  wooden  stairs. 

He  carried  in  his  arms  a  small,  yellow-haired  dog.  "  Just  the 
kind  that  yelps,"  said  Vixen  crossly  to  herself,  as  doctor  and  dog 
disappeared  in  the  room  beyond. 

She  slept  again,  and  was  again  awakened  by  a  noise  close  to 
her  cell. 

"  Poor  little  chap,"  said  a  voice.  "  It  was  a  pretty  hard 
knock,  but  maybe  you'll  pull  through."  And  the  doctor  was 
laying  tenderly  in  the  next  cell  the  yellow  dog,  who  did  indeed 


look  like  the  yelping  Mud,  but  whose  big  pathetic  brown  eyes  had 
a  frightened  look  in  them,  that  moved  his  neighbor  to  pity. 

After  the  doctor  had  gone,  there  was  quiet  for  a  time  and  then 
a  groan.  Miss  Vixen  moved  impatiently.  She  did  hope  that 
the  newcomer  would  at  least  keep  stilL  It  was  bad  enough  to 
be  shut  up  here,  but  when  these  ill-bred  curs — there  was  really 
no  name  too  bad  to  call  them — when  they  all  talked  aloud  of 
their  wrongs  and  sufferings  or  called  for  food  in  a  most  un- 
seemly manner,  then  it  was  unendurable,  and  she  did  hope  the 
yellow  dog  was  not  going  to  prove  to  be  one  of  a  class  of  which 
there  were  already  too  many  in  this  very  room. 

There  was  another  smothered  groan.  It  seemed  like  a  sound 
of  suffering  and  Miss  Vixen,  who  was  not  naturally  hard- 
hearted, got  up  and  looked  through  a  convenient  knot-hole  in 
the  partition  between  the  cells. 

The  yellow  dog  looked  up  and  caught  sight  of  a  sympathetic 
brown  eye. 

"  I  hope  I  didn't  disturb  you,"  he  said. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Miss  Vixen  politely.  "  I  am  afraid  you 
are  suffering.  Shall  I  call  the  doctor  for  you  ? " 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

"  O  no,  thank  TOIL  I  am  really  quite  comfortable.  I  am 
not  suffering  much  now.  Only  when  I  move  there's  a  sharp 
pain  in  my  side.  I'll  keep  very  quiet  now  and  I  hope  you'll 
finish  your  nap." 

"  It  doesn't  matter  at  all  about  my  nap."  Miss  Vixen  began 
to  feel  quite  sorry  for  the  little  chap.  He  looked  very  ill  and 
was  so  anxious  not  to  disturb  any  one. 

"  Are  you  hurt  badly  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Xo,  I  guess  not.  It  hurt  pretty  bad  at  first,  but  now  I'm 
kind  of  numb." 

"  Well,  if  you  want  anything,  just  let  me  know  and  I'll  call 
the  doctor.  He's  very  kind  and  will  do  anything  he  can  for 
you." 

"  You  are  very  good,"  said  the  yellow  dog  gratefully. 

"  One  shouldn't  judge  by  appearances,"  said  Miss  Vixen  to 
herself,  as  she  curled  down  in  a  corner  to  finish  her  nap.  "  He  is 
much  better  mannered  than  that  saucy  Japanese  over  there,  who 
cares  only  for  his  dinner,  and  who  is  so  impertinent  when  he 
doesn't  get  what  he  likes." 

The  afternoon  wore  away;  the  hot  air  grew  no  cooler.     The 


A  Yellow  Dog. 

dogs  had  finished  their  dinner  and  as  there  was  nothing  else  for 
them  to  do,  they  tried  to  sleep.  The  well  ones,  who  were  merely 
boarders,  settled  down  for  the  night,  and  the  sick  ones  dozed  and 
woke,  or  lay  with  half-open  eyes,  dry  hot  noses  and  panting 
breath. 

The  greyhound  with  the  broken  leg  moved  impatiently  now 
and  then.  He  told  the  fat,  sleepless  pug  that  his  leg  felt  as  big 
as  an  elephant's,  and  the  pug  replied  that  a  broken  leg  was 
nothing  to  an  attack  of  asthma,  that  kept  her  sitting  up  half  the 
night,  and  trying  to  get  a  breath  of  air  through  the  open  window 
near  her  cell. 

Down  below  a  horse  stamped,  and  over  on  Sixth  Avenue  the 
street  cars  whizzed  by,  at  longer  intervals. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  and  Miss  Vixen  was  very  restless.  The 
yellow  dog  had  been  very  quiet,  but  she  was  afraid  he  was  not 
all  right.  He  was  unnaturally  still,  without  even  the  move- 
ment and  occasional  heavy  breath  of  a  healthy  dog  asleep.  She 
went  over  to  the  knot-hole  and  looked  through.  He  glanced 
quickly  up  at  the  slight  noise  she  made. 

"  O,  Fm  so  glad  you're  awake,"  he  said.  "  I  kept  quiet  so  you 
could  sleep,  but  Fm  so  lonely." 

123 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

By  the  dim  light  of  the  one  gas  jet  which  hnrned  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room,  ]VIiss  Vixen  conld  see  that  the  yellow  dog 
had  not  moved.  He  still  lay  on  his  side  and  there  was  some- 
thing about  the  little  shaggy  paws,  lying  there  so  helpless,  that 
went  to  Miss  Vixen's  heart. 

"I'm  lonely  too,"  she  said.    "  Lefs  talk  awhile." 

"O,  will  you  ?  "  exclaimed  the  yellow  dog  eagerly.  "  Yon  are 
so  kind." 

So  Miss  Vixen  lay  down  with  her  muzzle  near  the  wire 
netting  that  covered  the  front  of  her  celL  The  yellow  dog's 
head  was  close  to  his  netting  and  they  talked  in  low  tones. 

Miss  Vixen  unburdened  her  heart  to  her  new  friend.  She 
told  him  all  about  her  ill-treatment;  of  her  visit  to  the  country, 
which  had  been  cut  short,  and  of  the  foolish  cruelty  or  cruel 
foolishness  of  her  mistress.  That  last  sounded  so  well  that  she 
repeated  it  in  order  to  impress  the  yellow  dog,  and  added  that  her 
mistress  would  be  back  in  three  days  now,  but  that  she,  Vixen, 
had  almost  made  up  her  mind  not  to  speak  to  her. 

"  What  would  you  do  ?  "  she  asked  her  listener,  more  from 
politeness  than  because  she  cared  what  his  answer  would  be, 
But  the  yellow  dog  seemed  not  to  have  heard  her  question. 

124 


A  Yellow  Dog. 

"  Did  you  say  you  had  been  in  the  country  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  and  it  was  lovely." 

"  I  could  show  you,"  she  went  on,  "  a  place  down  in  the  gar- 
den where  I  buried  five  beautiful  bones.  But  do  you  suppose 
she  thought  of  that  when  she  brought  me  here  ? " 

"  In  the  country,"  mused  the  yellow  dog;  "yes,  it  is  lovely 
there." 

"  Do  you  know  the  country  ? "  asked  Miss  Vixen.  She  did 
not  mean  to  let  that  surprised  note  creep  into  her  voice,  but 
really  the  yellow  dog  hardly  looked  as  though  he  belonged  to  the 
class  who  spend  their  summers  out  of  the  hot  town. 

But  he  was  not  offended.  In  fact,  he  noticed  nothing  un- 
usual in  her  question.  He  was  far  away  in  spirit  and  spoke  in  a 
low  reminiscent  tone. 

"  How  well  I  remember  the  day  he  came,  my  dear  little  mas- 
ter. How  white  he  looked  and  how  thin  his  face  was.  I  was 
out  in  the  barn  when  the  head  nurse  brought  him  to  see  me  and 
my  brother  and  sister.  '  And  may  I  have  one  of  'em  ? '  he  asked. 
*  Ye?,  choose  for  yourself/  said  Sister  Mary.  He  never  hesitated 
a  second,  but  picked  me  up  in  his  arms.  *  Fll  have  this  one/  he 

125 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

said ;  '  his  eyes  make  me  think  of  Nick's.'  Then  we  all  went 
down  to  the  orchard  and  Sister  left  him  and  me  together." 

"  That  first  day  we  sat  around  quietly  and  he  told  me  all  about 
Nick,  his  baby  brother.  He  had  died  only  the  week  before 
and  my  little  master  had  been  very  ill  too.  So  they  had  sent  him 
out  to  our  farm,  where  the  good  Sisters  would  help  him  to  get 
well.  He  was  to  go  back  in  three  weeks  and  I  should  go  with 
him.  We  talked  a  long  time  and  at  last  fell  asleep  under  the 
big  apple  tree.  Sister  Mary  woke  us  as  the  sun  was  setting. 
'  I  believe  he  looks  better  already,'  she  said  to  Sister  Ange- 
lique." 

"  The  next  day  he  and  I  had  a  fine  game  and  after  that  we 
went  everywhere  together." 

"  Was  he  nice  ?  "  asked  Miss  Vixen. 

There  was  something  in  the  yellow  dog's  tone  that  she  didn't 
quite  understand.  Something  deeper  and  more  serious  than 
had  ever  touched  her  before. 

"  Not  one  cross  word  did  we  ever  have,"  he  continued.  "  Not 
one.  I  saw  his  thin  form  grow  stronger  and  his  white  face 
round  and  brown,  and  each  day  we  played  longer  and  harder." 

126 


A  Yellow  Dog. 

"  You  must  have  had  good  times,"  suggested  Miss  Vixen. 

"  We  loved  each  other,"  said  the  yellow  dog  simply. 

Miss  Vixen  moved  uneasily.     She  too  loved  her  mistress,  and 
yet  how  unkindly  she  had  spoken  of  her. 

"  But  how  did  you  get  here  in  the  hospital  ?     Did  he  bring 
you?" 

The  yellow  dog  moaned. 

"  No,"  he  said ;  "  a  big  man  in  a  blue  coat  gave  me  to  another 
man.    He  put  me  in  a  box  in  a  big  wagon  and  we  came  here." 

"  Where  did  the  policeman  find  you  ?  "    Miss  Vixen  was  get- 
ting curious. 

But  the  yellow  dog's  mind  seemed  to  wander. 

"  Dear  little  master !  "  he  said,  "  I  don't  like  these  narrow, 
dirty  streets,  do  you  ?  Let's  go  and  find  the  country.  Come ! 
Come !  What  a  long  way  it  is,  little  master.  You  are  tired,  I 
know.  Is  it  much  further  ?  What  do  you  say  ?  Trees  ? 
Grass  ?  Shall  we  find  them  soon  ?  O,  I  see,  I  see  across  the 
street.  But  it  is  so  far  and  so  many  horses.  Look  out,  little 
master,  you  will  fall.  O,  help  him !  What  is  that  awful  thing 
coming  so  fast  along  the  shining  rails  ?  Ah — h." 
127 


Tales  •§  «  Terrier. 

The  yellow  dog  was  sOent.  Miss  Vixen  knew  now  what  had 
happened.  There  was  a  park  near  her  home  where  she  often 
went  with  her  mistress*  She  knew  the  noisy  wide  street  to  cross. 
She  knew  the  monster  that  flew  along  die  shining  rails.  She 
could  see  in  imagination  the  yeBow  dog  and  his  master,  eager 
for  a  sight  of  the  trees  and  grass;  the  faithful  dog  plunging 
blindly  after  the  small  hoy,  and  both  struck  down  by  the  hurry- 
ing car.  Her  sympathetic  heart  ached  and  she  wished  her  mis- 
tress were  there  to  speak  kindly  to  the  yellow  dog  and  perhaps 
help  him  to  find  his  master  agafn- 

Stifl  the  yellow  dog  was  silent,  and  finally  Miss  Vixen  slept. 

After  a  long  silence,  the  clock  in  the  corner  struck  two.  The 
big  brown  eyes  of  the  yellow  dog  were  wide  open.  He  gazed 
out  through  the  netting  of  his  cell  and  saw  a  lovely  green  field. 
A  boy,  a  brown-faced  boy,  with  a  torn  straw  hat,  was  running 
across  this  field  and  beside  him  ran  a  yellow-haired  dog.  Then 
the  boy  and  the  dog  threw  themselves  down  on  the  grass  and  lay 
still  a  longtime. 

O,  it  was  so  nice!  The  stuffy  room,  the  noisy  streets,  the 
fright,  the  blow,  the  pain,  all  were  gone.  It  had  been  a  dream, 

128 


bat  this  was  reaL    He  and  the 
rolling,  romping. 

Miss  Vixen  heard  a  little  bait,  and  loosing  herself,  peered 
through  the  knot-hole. 

The  yellow  dog  was  stffl  tying  on  his  side,  the  shaggy  paws 
were  at  rest  and  the  rough  head  was  pillowed  on  a  hit  of  carpet. 

"Poor  thing!    He's  asleep,"  she  whispered. 

Yes,  the  yellow  dog  slept,  bat  the  brown  eyes  were  fast  glazing 
and  the  drooping  ears  were  deaf  to  every  sound. 

On  the  other  side  of  town,  in  a  big,  big  room,  on  a  spotless 
white  cot,  lay  a  small  hoy  asleep.  There  was  a  bandage  about 
his  head  and  one  arm  was  held  tight  in  splints. 

The  fool  air  of  the  narrow  street  where  he  lived  had  not  yet 
robbed  his  cheeks  of  their  coat  of  tan  and  his  small  nose  was 
bridged  over  with  freckles.  One  hand  clutched  a  bartered  dog 
collar  and  there  were  tears  on  his  dark  lashes,  bat  *  happy 
smile  hovered  about  his  month. 

He  was  back  in  the  country  again.  At  the  dear  old  farm 
where  he  had  been  for  three  lovely  weeks.  He  was  having  a  fine 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 


game.  He  rolled  in  the  grass  till  he  was  dizzy,  then  picked  him- 
self up  and  ran  blindly  in  whatever  direction  his  little  snub  nose 
pointed,  and  then  he  threw  himself  down  again  in  a  very 
ecstasy  of  delight.  About  him  were  trees,  big,  big  trees  and 
grass,  lovely  green  grass.  And  over  in  the  house  yonder  was  a 
beautiful  being  in  a  white  cap  and  apron,  who  gave  little  boys 
bowls  of  bread  and  milk,  and  huge  ginger  cookies,  whenever 
they  asked  for  them.  Then  another  run  and  another  roll. 

And  always  by  his  side  was  his  friend  and  companion,  his 
chum ;  the  creature  he  loved  as  he  had  never  loved  anything  be- 
fore in  all  his  starved  little  life ;  a  yellow-haired  dog,  with  big 
pathetic  brown  eyes. 


130 


STRANGER 

THAN 
FICTION 


STRANGER  THAN  FICTION 

[AVE  they  all  gone  to  the  theatre  ? "  asked 
Miss  Vixen  of  the  White  Cat. 

"  Everybody  has  gone  to  the  theatre," 
replied  the  White  Cat,  in  a  tone  that 
might  have  included  the  universe. 
"  And  may  I  ask,"  she  continued,  "  how 
it  is  that  I  am  honored  with  your  com- 
pany?" 

"  You  perhaps  noticed,"  replied  Miss 
Vixen,  "  that  I  entered  rather  abruptly. 
You  must  excuse  it  It  really  was  not 

my  fault.  My  mistress  thinks  I  am  with  Katie.  Well,  Katie 
is  standing  at  the  area  gate  talking  with  the  cook  next  door. 
Now  I  have  no  interest  in  the  cook  next  door.  Our  own  cook  is 
quite  good  enough  for  me,  and  I  intimated  as  much  to  Katie." 
"  A  very  good  cook  is  Mary,"  assented  the  White  Cat,  looking 
affectionately  at  three  brown  chicken  wings  laid  carefully  on  a 
little  wooden  wagon  under  the  pier  mirror. 

"  What  I  said,  Katie  either  didn't  understand,  or  else  was 
133 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

afi:aid  that  the  next-door  cook  would.  At  any  rate,  she  picked 
me  up  and  put  me  in  here.  '  Now  be  quiet,'  she  said,  '  I'll  take 
ye  for  a  walk  soon.'  " 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,"  said  the  White  Cat  graciously. 
"  I  was  rather  wishing  for  some  one  to  talk  to." 

Miss  Vixen  selected  the  softest,  fattest  pillow  on  the  couch, 
pulled  it  down  from  its  standing  position,  walked  daintily  into 
the  center  of  it,  turned  around  four  times,  and  settled  herself 
comfortably ;  her  little  black  nose  between  her  white  paws  and 
her  eyes  fixed  on  the  White  Cat. 

Miss  Weises  or  Miss  Midget  Weises,to  give  her  her  whole  title, 
sat  upon  the  open  desk  in  the  corner.  A  large  Japanese  ink- 
stand full  of  ink  was  on  her  right  and  a  mucilage  pot  stood  in 
close  proximity  to  her  tail. 

"  Now  that  you  are  here,"  she  said  pleasantly,  "  I  think  I 
will  tell  you  the  story'  of  my  life.  That  is  if  I  have  time." 

Miss  Vixen  smothered  a  yawn.  "  It  can't  take  very  long,"  she 
said.  "  You're  not  much  older  than  I  am." 

"  You  forget,  Miss  Vixen,  a  cat  has  nine  lives." 

"  O,  are  you  going  to  tell  me  all  of  them  ?  "  in  an  anxious  tone. 
134 


Stranger  than  Fiction. 

"  Xo,  I  couldn't  do  that  if  I  wanted  to.  I  spoke  of  cats  in 
general  when  I  said  they  had  nine  lives.  My  dear  Miss 
Vixen  " — the  White  Cat  leaned  over  the  ink  bottle  toward  the 
occupant  of  the  sofa  pillow,  and  spoke  in  a  low  confidential  tone 
— "  has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that  I  am  different  from  all  other 


Miss  Vixen  raised  herself  and  sat  upright,  watching  the  yel- 
low eyes  fixed  on  her.  They  shone  with  a  strange,  unearthly 
light 

"  Well,"  she  said  reluctantly,  "  I  have  thought  once  or  twice  " 
— "  Ah,"  continued  the  yellow-eyed  one,  a  note  of  satisfaction  in 
her  voice,  "  you  have  noticed  it.  You  are  really  a  most  intel- 
ligent dog.  Yes,  Miss  Vixen,  I  will  confess  to  you,  I  am  a 
metempsychosis  cat." 

Miss  Vixen  reeled.  "  Good  gracious,"  she  said,  "  does  it 
hurt?" 

The  White  Cat  looked  at  her  scornfully.  "  I  see,"  she  said, 
"  that  though  you  may  be  intelligent,  you  are  not  at  all  intel- 
lectual. I  don't  believe  you  even  understood  me." 

"  Dear  Miss  Weises,"  pleaded  Miss  Vixen,  "  don't  be  offend- 
ed.   "  It  is  only  that  I  didn't  quite  know — " 
135 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

"  What  I  meant,"  concluded  Miss  Weises.  "  It  was  very  evi- 
dent, from  the  way  you  nearly  fell  off  the  couch.  Well,  I  am  a 
metempsychosis  cat,"  she  repeated  firmly. 

Miss  Vixen  started  again.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  rude,"  she 
said,  u  but  it  sounds  pretty  bad." 

"  To  be  perfectly  frank  with  you,  it  feels  pretty  bad  some- 
times." 

"  You  know,"  she  went  on,  "  how  I  came  here.  A  poor  unhap- 
py orphan,  out  from  the  howling  wilderness  of  Sixth  Avenue,  I 
crawled  one  day.  I  crept  along  by  the  curb,  almost  as  dirty 
as  the  cobble  stones  that  hurt  my  poor  lame  feet.  I  was  starv- 
ing. The  last  mouse  I  had  caught  had  been  finished  three  days 
before,  and  a  dog,  a  miserable  selfish  cur,  had  taken  possession 
of  the  dry  goods  box  which  had  been  my  only  home." 

Miss  Vixen  curled  down  on  the  pillow  again.  It  must  be 
dreadful  to  be  cold  and  hungry,  and  she  nestled  her  sleek  little 
body  closer  into  the  silk  pillow. 

"  What  this  home  has  been  to  me,"  continued  the  White 
Cat,  "  you  know.  Xo,  no  one  can  really  know,  who  has  not 
suffered  as  I  have."  And  she  pensively  brushed  aside  a  box  of 
pens,  and  hung  her  paws  over  the  edge  of  the  desk  lid. 

136 


Stranger  than  Fiction. 

"  A  lovely  home,  everything  I  want  to  eat,"  here  she  caught 
Miss  Vixen  looking  at  the  three  chicken  wings ;  "  you  were  ill 
the  last  time  you  appropriated  my  night  lunch,"  she  said 
sharply. 

"  It  wasn't  that,"  answered  Miss  Vixen  indignantly.  "  I 
hit  my  head  against  the  table.  The  Vet.  said  that  was  what 
made  me  have  the  fit.  And  another  thing,  I  understood  you  to 
ask  me  to  help  myself  from  your  night  lunch  wagon,  else  I 
should  never  have  eaten  the  chicken  wings,"  and  she  made  a 
move  as  if  to  go. 

"  O,  it's  all  right,"  the  White  Cat  hastened  to  assure  her, 
afraid  of  losing  an  appreciative  audience.  "  Don't  be  annoyed, 
and  do  stay  on  that  blue  cushion,  it  is  so  very  becoming."  Miss 
Vixen  succumbed  to  the  flattering  remark  and  again  settled  her- 
self. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  beautiful  home  and  I  love  my  mistress  dearly," 
said  Miss  Midget  thoughtfully.  "When  I  bite  and  scratch, 
which  is  seldom  now,  it  is  not  from  any  ill  feeling  toward  any- 
one. It  is  simply  a  touch  of  my  former  nature.  When  I  swung 
by  my  tail  in  the  forest  depths,"  and  the  White  Cat's  tail  struck 

137 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

forcibly  against  the  mucilage  pot — "  or  chased  my  brothers  and 
sisters  over  the  tops  of  the  trees — ah,  I  was  happy  and  care- 
free then." 

Miss  Vixen  snored  a  little  and  the  White  Cat  glared  at  her. 

"Little  fool!"  she  hissed,  "I'll  wake  her  up.  When  I 
swung  by  my  tail  in  the  forest  depths,"  she  began  again,  in  a 
loud  tone.  Miss  Vixen  opened  one  eye.  Without  noticing  her, 
Miss  Midget  sprang  lightly  to  the  floor.  With  one  bound  she 
was  across  the  room  and  up  the  side  of  a  tall  silk  screen  standing 
in  a  recess.  She  poised  herself  lightly  on  the  top  of  it,  and  ad- 
dressed an  imaginary  audience. 

"  But  why  talk  of  those  happy  days  ?  They  were  so  short  and 
so  soon  ended.  From  a  home  in  the  tree-top,  with  my  brothers 
and  sisters  about  me,  to  a  lonely  little  room  in  a  tenement  house, 
with  one  dirty  Italian  and  a  hand-organ.  Oh,  it  was  an  awful 
fall." 

Here  the  White  Cat  looked  down  over  the  edge  of  the 
screen,  spread  out  her  four  feet  and  landed  firmly  on  a  foot 
stool.  Miss  Vixen  was  now  wide  awake. 

"  An  awful  fall,"  repeated  Miss  Weises.  "  It  spoiled  my  dis- 
position, and  led  me  to  commit  the  crime  of  which  I  am  about 

138 


Stranger  than  Fiction. 

to  tell  you.  But  pity  me,  Miss  Vixen,  I  am  now  expiating  that 
crime.  I  am  a  cat,  a  white  cat,  a  tame  white  pussy  cat !  I, 
who  once  was  wild  and  free,  a  bold,  bad,  black  monkey !"  With 
this  impressive  and  alliterative  statement,  the  White  Cat  stalked 
under  a  big  easy  chair,  and  from  her  dusky  retreat  gazed  out 
with  gloomy  eyes. 

Miss  Vixen  was  visibly  impressed. 

"  Was  it  nice  to  be  a  monkey  \  "  she  asked  in  a  trembling  tone. 
The  poor  little  listener  thought  the  White  Cat  had  at  last  gone 
crazy,  and  her  one  idea  was  to  humor  her  till  Katie  should  come 
and  she  could  get  safely  away.  But  Miss  Weises  took  no  notice 
of  the  timid  question.  She  walked  to  the  center  of  the  floor, 
and  this  is  the  tale  she  told: 

"  The  Italian  who  called  himself  my  master  was  most  cruel 
to  me.  I  rarely  had  enough  to  eat,  and  I  was  carried  about 
on  his  shoulder  all  day.  I  wore  a  kilt  skirt  and  a  scarlet  coat, 
also  a  little  cap  on  my  head,  and  I  carried  a  tin  cup  for  pennies. 
As  my  master  ground  the  tunes  out  of  the  organ,  I  would  pass 
around  the  cup  and  receive  the  pennies.  Then  I  would  take 
off  my  cap  to  the  ladies  and  children,  who  were  sure  to  laugh  at 
me. 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

"  One  day  we  stopped  in  front  of  a  house.  A  young  girl  stood 
near  one  of  the  open  windows.  I  sprang  upon  the  balcony." 
Here  Miss  Weises  jumped  on  the  hack  of  a  low  chair  and  sat 
upright. 

"  My  master  played  several  tunes,  and  I  kept  taking  off  my 
cap  to  the  young  lady.  She  laughed  and  ran  out  of  the  room  to 
get  some  pennies.  I  crept  a  little  nearer  and  looked  into  the 
room.  Xear  the  window  stood  a  cage,  a  parrot  cage.  Its  door 
was  open  and  the  parrot  stood  on  a  table  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  In  one  claw  he  held  a  rich  iced  cake,  pink  icing.  I  re- 
member so  welL  I  was  hungry,  so  hungry !  I  gave  a  little  pull 
to  my  string,  my  master  thought  I  was  with  the  young  lady  and 
let  it  out.  I  jumped  on  the  table,"  Miss  Weises  suited  the  action 
to  the  word,  "  and  held  out  my  hand  for  a  piece  of  the  cake." 

"  The  parrot  must  have  seen  I  was  famished,  but  he  only 
croaked  in  a  haughty  way.  That  angered  me  and  I  reached  out 
to  seize  the  cake  from  him.  At  that  his  yellow  beak  came  down 
on  my  hand  and  I  certainly  thought  I  was  losing  my  fingers.  I 
had  forgotten  how  parrots  can  bite,  having  been  for  three  years 
in  captivity,  and  I  was  so  startled,  pained,  and  enraged,  all  at 

140 


Stranger  than  Fiction. 

once,  that  I  took  that  ugly  green  bird  by  the  neck,"  here  the 
White  Cat  clawed  viciously  at  the  evening  paper,  which  lay- 
rolled  np  on  the  table.  "  Then  I  took  the  cake,  ate  it,  still  hold- 
ing him  by  the  neck,  and  after  pulling  out  all  his  tail  feathers, 
one  by  one,  just  to  teach  him  a  lesson,  let  him  go  and  sprang 
back  to  the  window  ledge."  Miss  Weises  was  on  the  chair- 
back  again.  "When  the  young  lady  came  into  the  room,  I 
turned  to  her,  to  get  the  pennies,  and  was  raising  my  cap  when 
she  gave  one  look  at  the  table,  and  uttered  a  fearful  scream. 
The  parrot  lay  on  his  back  with  his  toes  curled  up.  He  had 
not  moved.  His  tail  feathers  lay  beside  him  and  his  yellow 
beak  was  wide  open.  I  had  killed  a  fellow  creature.  My  mas- 
ter, hearing  the  scream,  pulled  my  string,  and  I  dropped  to  his 
shoulder,"  she  reached  the  footstool  again,  "  and  we  hurried  out 
of  the  street" 

"  You  know,  Miss  Vixen,  there  is  a  law  among  animals,  that 
when  one  takes  the  life  of  another,  except  for  food  or  in  self- 
defense,  the  guilty  one  must  be  changed  into  another  animal.  I 
went  home  that  night,  worn  out  with  the  excitement  of  the  day. 
I  slept  and  knew  nothing.  When  I  awoke,  I  found  myself  a 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

dirty  white  kitten,  in  a  dry  goods  box  on  Sixth  Avenue.  It  was 
my  home  till  I  came  here.  Yes,  I  am  expiating  ray  crime.  To 
some,  the  punishment  is  merely  the  change  into  another  form. 
With  loss  of  memory  and  ignorance  of  the  past,  that  can  be 
borne.  But  when  regret,  remorse,  and  bitter,  bitter  memories 
stay  with  one,  then  the  burden  is  great.  To-night  I  am  living 
over  the  past,  and  as  I  walk  along  this  bookcase,  and  then  leap 
to  this  swinging  shelf,  I  could  fancy  myself  once  more  in  my 
forest  home.  And  as  I  creep  along  the  floor  and  suddenly  find 
myself  on  top  of  the  piano,  among  these  picture  frames  and 
vases,  I  could  imagine  I  was  playing  hide  and  seek  with  my 
brothers  and  sisters." 

With  a  bound  she  was  on  the  floor,  turned  a  double  somersault, 
and  landed  on  her  feet,  in  front  of  the  almost  speechless  !Miss 
Vixen. 

"  Perhaps  now  you  know  what  a  metempsychosis  cat  is,"  she 
said ;  "  or  perhaps  even  now  you  have  some  doubt  that  I  was 
once  a  monkey." 

"  O,  none  at  all,  I  assure  you ;  none  at  all."  Miss  Vixen  spoke 
in  a  very  small  voice  and  looked  warily  around.  "  It  has  been 

143 


most  interesting,  most  unusual.    I  wonder  where  Katie  can  be." 

"  If  you  have  any  doubt,"  began  the  White  Cat,  but  just 
then  the  door  opened  and  Katie  entered. 

"  Sure,  you're  here,  are  ye  ?  "  she  said.  "  I  forgot  the  White 
Cat  was  here  entirely.  It's  a  wonder  she  hasn't  scratched  yer 
eyes  out.  It's  bewitched  she  is." 

Miss  Vixen  sidled  up  close  to  Katie.  "  Good-bye,  Miss 
Weises,"  she  said  politely.  "  You  must  return  my  call  soon. 
I've  had  a  most  delightful  evening." 

The  White  Cat  opened  her  mouth  to  speak,  but  Katie  lifted 
Miss  Vixen  in  her  arms  and  carried  her  out. 

"  Sure  the  cross  thing  be  a-shpittin'  at  ye,  darlint !  Come  wid 
Katie  and  we'll  go  to  the  corner  and  post  a  letter." 

As  Miss  Vixen  came  up  the  stoop  after  her  walk,  she  over- 
took Sir  Peter,  who  was  just  returning  from  the  club  with  his 
master.  Sir  Peter  was  looking  very  smart.  His  shirt  front 
was  white  and  spotless,  and  the  big  brass  nail  heads  on  his  collar 
shone  in  the  electric  light. 

"  Sir  Peter,"  asked  Miss  Vixen,  "  if  Miss  Midget  Weises 
143 


Tales  of  a  Terrier. 

should  tell  you  that  she  had  once  been  a  monkey,  would  you 
believe  her  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  would,"  answered  Sir  Peter  convincingly.  "  I 
would  believe  her  if  she  said  she  had  once  been  a  barrel  of 
monkeys." 


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